The Best of All Possible Worlds
by Elkulib
Summary: AU, OoTP spoilers. Harry is drawn into an alternate world where Voldemort never existed, and his other self is an ordinary boy. (Full summary inside).
1. Storms

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Full Summary: AU, OoTP spoilers. Harry Potter is drawn into an alternate dimension where Voldemort never existed, and his other self is an ordinary boy, concerned more with Quidditch and parental scoldings than saving the world. Harry has few magical means of protection and no idea how to get back to his own world. When he does learn of one possible way, will he be able to resist the temptation to take it?

Brief Introductory Notes: Hello. Comments are welcome. Any constructive criticism and Brit-picking is fine (especially Brit-picking, because I know my grasp of it isn't nearly as fine as it should be, and I've only read American editions of the HP books). So are questions about how the plot will go, though I may not answer them.

Warnings for this one are solely for violence and gore, with any luck not too extreme. If you think Harry or any of the others are OOC, please tell me! I've tried to change Harry realistically as I think he would be changed after the events of OoTP, but I'm not sure how well I succeeded. Also, there are no pairings in this, het, saffic, or slash. I have nothing against well-written romances, but I don't want them in this fic.

Disclaimer: I own none of the HP characters or settings; those belong to the wonderful J. K. Rowling and her associates. No profit is being made from this.

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The Best of All Possible Worlds

Chapter One: Storms

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September 1, 1996

"Don't go outside tonight."

Harry Potter jumped and looked over his shoulder. He had been staring out the window over the lake and brooding about Sirius. He'd been doing it all summer, it was the day before classes started at Hogwarts, why should today be any different?

He'd expected someone to come along and give him a warning, since Ron and Hermione had picked up on his brooding and were all busy helpfulness. But the person standing behind him was so unexpected that it took him several blinks and stares to be sure that, yes, she was there.

"_Professor Trelawney_?" he asked.

Her hand gripped his shoulder, and her eyes, the least misty he'd ever seen them—except for when she was making that disturbing prophecy about Pettigrew—glared into his. "Don't go outside tonight," she repeated.

"Why?" Harry demanded, shrugging off her hand. He'd had people touching him all today, as though one touch on the shoulder could make up for everything. Besides, this was the woman who'd made two prophecies about his life, neither of which made him feel particularly friendly towards her. "What's outside?"

"Death."

Harry snorted, not even bothering to cover his mouth.

Trelawney glared at him. "I know whereof I speak, child," she intoned. "There is death waiting for you outside. Not the death of the body that I so often speak of to you, but death of the soul and spirit."

Harry shook his head. It would have been a bad idea if he'd still cared about class with the old bat, but he didn't, and he was sick and tired of whispers and touches and pitying looks. "You can't scare me anymore," he spat. "I've seen things that would make you faint and fall out of your tower. I've stood up to Umbridge, which was something you never did."

"How dare you!" Trelawney sounded much more like her normal self suddenly, and Harry was glad. _Enough's changed. I don't want this to change, too. _"Twenty points from Gryffindor!"

"Can you do that?" Harry asked with pretended interest. "Seeing as you're not a good teacher anymore, and you never really were, you old fraud?"

"_Fifty_ points from Gryffindor!" Trelawney shrieked.

"Why not make it a hundred?" Harry asked. "One for every time you've predicted my death and _been wrong_?" He had stepped closer to her and rested his hand on his wand without even realizing what he was doing. He glared at her, chest heaving, almost hoping she would take the hundred points. Then he might hex her and feel better for it.

The thought of what Hermione would say about him hexing a teacher, even one as useless as Professor Trelawney, just made it all the easier to do.

Trelawney didn't say anything, and when Harry looked back at her, expecting to see her trembling and foaming at the mouth, he saw only an expression of desperate sadness instead. She actually reached out to him. Harry stepped backwards until his shoulders pressed against the wall. He didn't know what would happen if she touched him, but he didn't think he wanted to find out.

Trelawney pulled her hand back to her side and bowed her head. "I did warn you," she said. "Don't go outside tonight."

"Because my death awaits me there, of course," said Harry, in his best spooky voice.

Trelawney looked at him, said, "Yes, it does," and then turned and paced away.

Harry frowned and let go his grip on his wand. _That was strange, _he thought as he turned towards Gryffindor Tower. _Unless this is just her new method of getting me to believe her ridiculous prophecies, of course._

Feeling considerably better now that he was thinking about it that way, Harry took one step, a second step, and would have taken a third one if he hadn't been stopped by a barked, "Potter!"

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This is not my night for avoiding professors. Harry groaned under his breath as he turned back around. Snape stood behind him, black robes hunched around his shoulders exactly like a bat's wings. 

He extended one hand until his finger appeared to point directly at Harry's face. "What are you doing here, Potter?" 

"I wasn't hungry," said Harry.

Snape's eyes narrowed. "For what, I wonder?" he asked. "Your food or your fame? Your fan club appears to miss you, so perhaps it is not the latter."

Harry laughed.

Snape stared at him as if he had produced a frog from his nose. "And what was that for, Potter?" he asked finally, pronouncing each word distinctly.

"Your insults never change," said Harry, shaking his head. "You aren't as clever as you think you are, and I'm getting tired of dealing with you. Why were you ever put in Slytherin? Does it really take such a small amount of cunning that the Sorting Hat is satisfied if you can come up with one insult and stick to it?"

Snape's face turned several interesting shades. Harry watched him and grinned. This was _much_ more fun than the shouting he'd done last year.

"Thirty points from Gryffindor," Snape hissed at last. "And I did not come to suffer your insults, Potter—"

"You looked as though you suffered from them pretty well," said Harry. Some reckless instinct pushed him to add, "The way that you suffered from my father taunting you, too. Is one more Potter too much for you?"

Snape closed his eyes, and stood still. Harry watched, his cheer swiftly ebbing away. Such a calmness could only mean an explosion that would probably put Gryffindor in negative points and result in the worst Potions classes yet. Harry had gotten enough O.W.L.'s to enter Potions, much to his amazed disgust.

Snape opened his eyes at last, and gave Harry a look of such hatred that he flinched. This wasn't hatred for James anymore; it was personal. Harry didn't know how he could tell the difference, or why it upset him so much, but he could and it did.

"I came to warn you," said Snape at last, voice on the edge of a whisper. "But why does it matter? Someone such as you are will probably take the chance and be glad of it."

He turned and swept down the stairs, robes billowing behind him. Harry watched him, and blinked. 

That had sounded eerily similar to Trelawney's words. Could there be some danger lurking around the castle?

Harry snorted. "More likely he couldn't think of anything to respond with and just wanted to scare me," he said, marching towards the Tower. 

The more he thought about that explanation, the better it seemed. By the time he reached the Tower, he was more than satisfied with it.

~*~

"Harry."

Harry opened one eye, blinked for a moment, and then reached for his glasses. The world around him rippled hazily into view, and he glanced at his fellow Gryffindor sixth-years, wondering who had wanted to wake him up.

No one, it seemed. There were four still boys and four snores, as usual. Harry frowned and looked out the window, wondering if this was someone's idea of a prank. He had already reached for his wand again. He really did want to hex someone. It would provide a satisfaction he thought could stand the loss of points. 

There was no one visible, though. The lash of a lightning bolt made the darkness burn and Harry jump, and a moment later he heard the rain following. He relaxed marginally. _If Trelawney really did want to convince me she was right, she could have just told me about the storm._

"Harry. Come back here right now." The voice was affectionate and scolding, and sounded as if it were right outside the window. "I told you that I wanted you to get to bed early tonight. The headmaster said we could Apparate in tomorrow. I've barely seen you all summer, what with Sirius's adventuring. Sit _down_, young man!"

Harry stared wide-eyed into the storm. This was a very odd prank, if it was a prank. He racked his brain for memories of a Dark creature who could imitate a voice like that, and then shrugged it off. He didn't even know the voice. What would be the point?

The storm seemed to pause, and the voice came through again, apparently answering an unheard complaint. "Because I am your _mother_, young man!"

Harry's breath hitched. He closed his eyes for a moment, and listened to the conscience that argued he should stay inside, not follow the voice, not be that stupid, not act the way he had when Sirius was killed.

__

But no one's going to get killed this time, he reasoned with himself. _I'll take my Invisibility Cloak. I'll take my wand. I'd even take my Firebolt if it wasn't raining. I'll be careful this time._

I just have to know… Mum?

He pulled his Cloak free from his trunk, draping it swiftly over himself as Ron sat up in bed. The other boy blinked for a moment at his bed, and Harry held his breath. If Ron noticed he was missing, he would have to pop back out, and maybe not go at all.

"Harry!" The voice outside sounded truly exasperated now. Harry tried not to think that it might go away.

But Ron just mumbled something that sounded like "Transfiguration homework, bloody McGonagall…" and lay down again. Harry drew the curtains closed around his bed and started down the steps.

The Fat Lady opened for him, at least as sleepily as Ron had sat up. "Late to be going outside, isn't it, dear?" she mumbled.

"I'm just going for a walk," said Harry, and pulled the cloak over his head.

"Of course you are," she said, and fell asleep again.

Harry skittered through the halls, keeping a close eye on any shadows that moved. The very last thing he needed now was to run into Snape, or Malfoy, or even Dumbledore. Harry shuddered. _Dumbledore might actually be worse. He'd take me up into his office for…for a chat, or something._

Harry still wasn't sure how he felt about the Headmaster's having kept the news of the prophecy from him for so long. Of course, he was angry. He was betrayed. But the conscience that had insisted on making itself heard more lately was wondering what else Dumbledore could have done. Wouldn't the news have crushed him even more if he knew it earlier?

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But if I knew it, Sirius might not have died.

That was so far his one unanswerable argument. His conscience shut up, and Harry eased out into the storm.

It was even fiercer than he had thought it was. Lightning danced around him, flashing and dazzling him in and out of blindness until Harry pulled out his wand and whispered, "_Lumos._" That allowed him to see, but didn't do anything about the brutal rain soaking his cloak, or the wet grass that made him slip and scrabble across it. Harry was already cursing himself when he heard the voice again.

"Harry, get off that broom! If I have to tell you one more time to come inside and go to bed, then I am going to—"

The roar of the wind cut the words off, but Harry had had time to fix on them. They were coming from near the lake.

He hurried forward, no longer caring if Voldemort and a few Death Eaters were waiting for him. It would give him his opportunity to hex someone, and if Bellatrix Lestrange was there, Harry was almost sure he would get _Crucio_ right this time.

The rain was pelting down so thickly now that Harry couldn't see more than a few feet ahead. He kept looking for a light, the glimpse of a black robe, a hissing snake, anything, and only darkness and silence answered him.

He just managed to stop himself from falling into the lake, and looked around, panting and gasping as rain hit him full in the eyes. His glasses were worse than useless now, and he pulled them off, wiping them.

Something spat and growled right above him. Harry looked up, gripping his wand, ready to see some beast out of the Forbidden Forest waiting for him.

He never knew later why he remembered it so clearly. It should have come too fast for him to see it. It was a bloody lightning bolt, after all.

But he had time to see the white expanding light of it, to trace the progress of the bolt as it leaped, to almost feel the searing pain that went through his body and his scar at the same moment before he collapsed into unconsciousness.

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	2. Godric's Hollow

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Author's Notes: Wow! Thank you, everyone! I'm glad you liked the first chapter so much. It did come out better than I thought it would. So did this one, I think. As always, constructive criticism and Brit-picking are welcome.

I probably won't be able to update this fast most of the time, but might as well use the time while I've got it. And especially because I think this is going to be quite a bit longer than I originally envisioned; I had a lot of new plot ideas last night.

Responses to some specific questions and comments at the end of the chapter.

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The Best of All Possible Worlds

Chapter Two: Godric's Hollow

"Harry! Stop playing, and come in right now!"

The voice woke him. Well, either the voice or the pain stabbing through his body. Harry actually wasn't sure which.

Carefully, he sat up, holding his head and panicking for a moment when he couldn't feel his glasses. Then he located them clutched in his right hand, along with his wand, and slipped them on. They were almost completely dry, which puzzled him until he looked up and around him.

He caught his breath. The sky above him was bright in the aftermath of a storm, clouds just breaking up and trailing away towards the west. He could feel the pain from the lightning strike easing just at the sight of it, or so he told himself. It was ridiculously sentimental, but then, people had been telling him he had been that, since Sirius's death.

"Harry!"

Harry looked up swiftly. A woman stood in the doorway of a neat, trim house not too far away, looking directly at him and shaking her head.

"I told you to come in and eat your breakfast an hour ago," she said. "A fine morning to fly, but you'll have plenty of those once you're back at Hogwarts. I know how much you're looking forward to being on the Quidditch team again." Her voice took on a slightly wheedling tone. "Won't that be better than flying around in the morning and giving me such a scare?"

Harry couldn't breathe. He knew her face. It looked out from most of the wizarding photographs in the album Hagrid had given him. Eyes like his own, and a gentle, patient smile… it was his mum. It had to be.

Tears filling his eyes, Harry started to stand up, and then tangled himself in the folds of his Invisibility Cloak. His twitching limbs didn't help, either. He went sprawling back on the ground, grinning sheepishly. _That's an impression I always wanted to make on Mum, like I'd just fallen off my broomstick._

Then his worry abruptly deepened. _I'm still under the Cloak. How did she see me?_

"Coming, Mum!"

Harry slowly turned his head, afraid of what he would see—but he wouldn't have been able to stop if Voldemort was in front of him threatening to kill Ron and Hermione.

A boy was just skidding to a stop in the grass, after an obviously long swoop down from that cloudy bright sky. He dropped his Firebolt and ran towards the house. He passed right by Harry, and gave him an excellent glimpse of black hair, green eyes, a face that was his _own_ face.

Harry tried to curl in on himself, but he still shook and couldn't do that. He just lay and stared at the sky instead, while Lily scolded the other Harry for his failure to listen to her, not packing his trunk properly, coming back so late from his adventures that they had to Apparate to Hogsmeade this morning, and a million other minor injustices. The other Harry complained as loudly, but their voices seemed to fade from Harry's ears as he lay there.

His thoughts boiled around, formless, until they found one overwhelming one that was enough to drive him to his feet.

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What is going on?

Carefully, trying not to draw any attention from inside the house, Harry forced himself back to his feet. He limped and shuffled towards the nearest window. He didn't know if he wanted to look at his mum and himself—his other self—again so soon, but he didn't have any other idea about what to do. He couldn't walk away from the house and expect to find anyone who would tell him. 

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Maybe I'm dead, he speculated as he leaned his chin on the windowsill. _But I never knew there would be two of me in heaven, or wherever I am._ He winced as his muscles spasmed again. _And I don't think heaven is supposed to hurt this much._

He found he had an excellent view of the other Harry, since Lily's back was turned while she bustled around a shelf, arranging books. The other Harry was downing eggs and pumpkin juice with an enthusiasm that made Harry's stomach rumble. His other self glanced up briefly, then shrugged and went back to his breakfast.

Harry stared at himself. There was everything, absolutely everything. He moved that way. He ate that way. He wouldn't have known for certain that he held his fork that way, but watching from the outside, he could recognize his own gestures. And there was no odd sense of disorientation, either, or at least not a huge one. He felt rather dizzy watching himself eat, but he didn't feel as if he were part of the other boy. He was quite clearly Harry Potter.

The problem was, so was he.

Then the other Harry's fringe flopped forward in his eyes, and he pushed it out of them with an annoyed sound. Harry's own fingers flew up and touched his forehead, so hard that he rapped himself in the face with his wand. He winced, but didn't take his eyes from the one difference he'd been able to spot.

This other Harry had no lightning-shaped scar.

Harry put his head down on the windowsill, closed his eyes, and drew in a deep breath. His thoughts were boiling again, and he wasn't entirely sure what to do about them. 

He was himself.

So was that boy.

His Mum was alive, and the other Harry had no scar. That meant…

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Voldemort didn't attack us? Harry thought dazedly. _Could he have chosen Neville instead? But I know he didn't choose him. He chose me. Dumbledore said so. And—_

His thoughts all blew away as something barked sharply to the left, near the Firebolt. Harry turned and saw a lean black dog bounding across the grass towards the house, wagging its tail furiously.

There was no mistaking him. Harry put his head down, closing his eyes and telling himself that he was brave, he had faced Voldemort, he was not going to make a fool of himself by crying.

The dog barked again, and Harry made a fool of himself. He drew his head up, wiping away the tears, and moved around the house just in time to see Lily answer the door. She rolled her eyes indulgently at the sight of the dog, but held up her hand when the dog wagged his tail again and tried to jump past her.

"You know the rules, Padfoot," she said. "No mud in the house."

The dog clearly sulked at her. Harry stared. He'd never seen Sirius do that without an undertone of brooding.

"Change back, at least," said Lily, her lips twitching in that same resigned smile she'd used when watching Harry—no, her son—come down from his broom.

The dog changed into a man. And Harry reeled back, clutching at the side of the house and wishing he could just take off his Invisibility Cloak so he didn't have to keep stumbling over it.

Sirius wasn't lean. He wasn't haggard. He looked well-rested, and his hair had only a little gray in it. He had lines around his mouth, the same way that Harry's Sirius had, but these were clearly lines of laughter and not the grim scowling lines that Sirius had worn in Harry's own world. And, most different of all, his eyes shone with a deep, contented joy, as though he had never lost twelve years of his life to monsters that ate away at his memories.

"That better?" he asked.

Lily nodded. "But I have to ask you not to distract Harry," she said. "We have to Apparate in this morning, and if you take Harry out flying, I'll never get him down again in time to leave."

"Would I do that?"

Lily just snorted at him, as if to say that the question wasn't worth answering, and then turned and called back into the house, "Harry! Your godfather's here to say goodbye to you!"

Harry turned away. He just couldn't watch this.

~*~

Later that morning, Lily was rushing around the house doing a last-minute check of everything, Sirius had changed back and bounded off somewhere, and Harry was fidgeting outside the house, ready to leave.

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No! Not me! The other me! Harry shook his head rapidly enough to dizzy himself. _I have to keep us separate, or I'll go mad. Well, maybe I'm mad already, but I've got to try this._

He took a deep breath and carefully approached the other Harry, not letting his Invisibility Cloak swish and drag too much. This was the only ruse he'd been able to think of that might have some chance of succeeding. He had sneaked into the house earlier and stolen a few leftover bits of scrambled eggs, but even then, Lily had nearly bumped into him. He'd never realized just how fast his Mum would be.

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I still don't know. This has to be a dream, or a hallucination, or…something.

But it didn't appear to be ending, so Harry thought he might as well try some way to make it more bearable. If even one person knew that he was here, he might have help in figuring out what had happened.

He stopped in front of the other Harry and stared at him. He supposed he'd found one other way in which this one was different from him; his face was less tired than Harry knew he looked, given the way that Ron and Hermione had commented on it endlessly.

A wave of homesickness struck him, and he shivered. _I'm going to get there. I'll see them again. I have to believe that._

He drew in his breath and spoke in Parseltongue. "_Good morning._"

The other Harry jumped and stared around in every direction, including the right one, with wide eyes.

Not the best reaction, but then, the boy hadn't known that anyone else was there. Harry didn't want to take off the Cloak until he was absolutely sure that this Harry wouldn't just run into the house screaming for his mother. He waited until his other self's face turned in something like the right direction and hissed, "_Sorry if I startled you. I just wanted to know what year this is, and if you ever heard of a wizard called—"_  


The other Harry wailed and bolted towards the house, yelling, "Mum! Mum! There's a snake in the garden!"

Harry blinked after him, then reached out and hooked himself around the waist. The other Harry sprawled on the ground, panting in fear. Harry stooped over him, clutching his wand and fighting the urge to hex him. _Probably not the best thing, to hex myself. I don't know what would happen._

"_Will you just hold still?_" he hissed. "_I wanted to speak to you in Parseltongue because I didn't want you running and making a scene like that. If I spoke in English, she would hear my voice and know something was wrong._"

"It's an anaconda, Mum!" yelled the other Harry, his voice rising to the edge of panic. "It's got hold of me and it's hissing at me and I can't see it!" He hit the edge of hysteria with those words.

"_I'm not an anaconda_," said Harry in exasperation. "_Will you just calm down and listen to me for a minute?"_

"He cannot underssstand you, human sssnake."

Harry glanced sharply to the left. A tiny green snake hissed at him in amusement from the shelter of a thick clump of grass. "_You are the only one here who can underssstand my wordsss. It hasss been long sssince there wasss sssuch a one. You will ssstay and talk?_"

Harry looked hopelessly back at the other Harry, who was trembling, and then let him go. He immediately rolled away and ran inside the house.

Harry sat down with a thump in the grass, and wondered what he was going to do now.

"_Ssstay and ssspeak with me_," the snake suggested.

Harry sighed dismally and waited while Lily comforted her son, telling him there had been no invisible anaconda, that he probably tripped over a branch and heard one of the snakes hissing, that no, this wasn't the right kind of climate for Runespoors and there was nothing out there to threaten him.

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What am I going to do now?

Harry stood and shook his head, draping the Invisibility Cloak firmly back over himself. _Go to Hogwarts, I suppose. If anyone can help me, it's this world's version of Dumbledore. Maybe he can tell me why this me has no scar, and why my Mum's alive, and Sirius, and why this other me is such a—such a prat!_

Eventually, Lily calmed the other Harry down, and brought him back out into the garden, where she shrank his Firebolt for him. Then she ordered him to stand close to her and hold on while she Apparated.

Harry took a deep breath and grabbed her other arm while she was concentrating, hoping he wouldn't get splinched.

Oddly enough, his mind was on another thing as they vanished.

__

I wonder where Dad is?

_____________________

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Tanydwr: Thanks for the offer! So far, I've just been rewording in places where I don't know the British word, but I might ask for help if I can't avoid it.

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Lil Miss Potter: I haven't read a lot of AU stories for a while now, but Yih's Mirror of Paradox is supposed to be rather good. I also like March Madness's Fugitive Prince and Becka's In Memory I (both these are darker).

Until next time!


	3. Hiding at Hogwarts

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Author's Notes: Well, here I am, updating again. I know pretty much how the first five chapters are going to go, though, so it's easy to write them. The others are less easy, so I'm pretty much in wilder territory with those.

This world's Harry does seem to be rather a wimp, but "our" Harry isn't always as bright as Hermione, either. 

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BekaJWP: Thanks for the tip and the compliments! I was somewhat guessing on the grass snake, which was why I didn't name it specifically. Thanks for the confirmation!

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Tanydwr: I could make a living out of nit-picking, too, believe me. I'll let you know.

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Everyone else who's reviewed: Thank you! Let me know if you see anything that can be changed.

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The Best of All Possible Worlds

Chapter Three: Hiding at Hogwarts

"Harry! Come back here!"

Harry twitched reflexively at his name as he let go of Lily's hand and stepped away from her, but decided he would just have to get used to it. Dream, hallucination, or other world, as he had started to accept, the name wasn't going to vanish. He looked quickly around, orienting himself in Hogsmeade, and started towards Hogwarts. He thought he would probably reach the castle much more quickly than Lily and the other Harry, since his mum was currently chasing her son towards Zonko's and shouting something about making sure that he actually made it to classes.

Harry envied that kind of problem. He was practicing speeches in his head, trying to make them come out just right.

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You see, sir, I come from another world… Perhaps not right at the beginning.

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I seem to be stuck in a dream I can't get out of… No, that would make it seem as if he didn't take the problem seriously enough, and Harry had no intention of doing anything else.

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You know I look an awful lot like Harry Potter? Well, you look an awful lot like someone I know… Closer to what he wanted, but still not right.

Harry tramped along, scowling and tripping over the Invisibility Cloak and listening to his almost-empty stomach, and arrived at Hogwarts before he expected it. He took a moment to study it. The castle seemed exactly the same, at least from the outside. The lake didn't ripple any differently. There were no extra towers, the way that Harry had almost expected, and the Forbidden Forest managed to look as dark and frightening as it did at home.

Then his eyes moved away from the Forest, and he straightened, heart slamming against his ribs.

__

Where's Hagrid's hut?

There was nothing where it should have been. Harry stared at the empty space of grass. He didn't know what it meant. It _could_ just mean that Hogwarts didn't have a gamekeeper, but it could also mean that something had happened to Hagrid in this world. And if that was true, then who knew who else might be missing? Perhaps he would walk into the castle and find Voldemort as Headmaster. Harry shuddered faintly. If his mother was still alive and he was running around without his scar and not able to talk to snakes, then anything could happen.

__

But I can't think like that. If I do, then I might as well just give up and sit down right now.

Harry scowled. He was beginning to hate the voice of his conscience. It sounded a lot like a cross between McGonagall, Dumbledore, and Snape.

He kicked a stone to relieve his feelings, and entered the castle.

~*~

By the time he got to the gargoyle outside the Headmaster's office, Harry was ready to hex someone again. Breakfast must have just finished, judging by the delicious smells in the halls, and students hurrying late to their classes seemed intent on running in unpredictable directions, making it hard for him to dodge. Add to that that he had seen Ron and Hermione streaking towards the Charms classroom and had almost spoken to them out of sheer gladness, and Harry thought his feelings weren't unjustified.

It was just the icing on the cake to get to the gargoyle and realize that he didn't know the password.

Harry sighed. _Should I hope that Dumbledore in this world has that same fondness for sweets? Well, pretty much useless to assume anything else._

Glancing up and down the hall so he would see anyone approaching, he whispered, "Chocolate Frog? Fizzing Whizbee? Flavored Beans?"

The gargoyle stayed motionless.

"Lemon drop?" 

Motionless again.

"Chocolate cake?"

Motionless.

Harry bit his tongue as he heard footfalls, and dived towards the gargoyle, then realized the person might want to enter the Headmaster's office, shuffled off to the side, became concerned about being too far away to hear the password, and froze awkwardly where he was.

Professor Snape rounded the corner.

Harry gawked. The Invisibility Cloak cast a slight gauze across everything he saw, but it couldn't distort his vision _this_ much. Snape looked happier, the way that Sirius had, but so much better than the Snape of his world that there was really no comparison. He had a slight smile on his face, hummed under his breath, and actually stopped now and then to draw in a breath of air, exactly as if he were glad to be alive.

Harry shook his head to clear it. _I'm not sure if I want to know what could make Snape happy. Maybe Voldemort really _is _Headmaster._

He was so distracted with the thought that he missed the moment when Snape stopped by the gargoyle and murmured a password, a fairly long one. The gargoyle hopped aside, and Snape stepped past. Harry gathered himself for a dash, but the statue was already back in place.

Harry growled, and thought of waiting for Snape to come back.

But different thoughts rose up in his mind almost immediately. There was food, of course, but there were also the sight of Ron and Hermione, and even the thought of seeing what had become of other people while he was here.

__

Maybe I can figure out what the difference is between this world and mine. And even if I can't, it would be fun to see them.

His conscience pointed out that he should focus on getting home, not fun. But his conscience was sounding a lot like Snape at the moment, so Harry ignored it and made his way towards the kitchens.

~*~

Harry shook his head as he stepped out of the kitchens. He hoped that this world's Harry wasn't great friends with the house-elves. The house-elves were now severely confused as to why Harry Potter would be creeping around the school under an Invisibility Cloak, and making up very poor excuses about missing breakfast in the rush for his mother to get him here.

But his stomach was full, and with any luck he would be home by evening, so Harry tried not to worry about it too much.

He made his way quietly towards the Charms classroom, ducking inside during a moment when Flitwick's squeaky voice seemed especially loud. He saw a few people glance at the door, but most of them turned back at once. Maybe they were more studious than the ones at home, Harry thought with a slight grin.

He realized almost at once that that wasn't it. Harry—_the other Harry_, Harry corrected himself firmly—and Ron sat near the front of the class, and they were about to play a prank. Flitwick, standing on a pile of cushions and gesturing emphatically to make a desk blaze with inner light, didn't pay any attention. The rest of the Gryffindors were leaning forward and snickering as Harry and Ron kept their hands over something on the table, something that made their hands jump and flutter every so often.

Hermione, who sat beside them, was too busily buried in her books to pay any attention. Harry grinned wider when he saw her, even though it brought on another wave of homesickness. Things in this world could be different, but Hermione would always be Hermione.

__

And this one probably doesn't have bad dreams about the Department of Mysteries, either, he thought wistfully.

The other Harry and Ron played their prank before Harry could start feeling too guilty. Their hands broke apart, and an angry, buzzing insect zoomed off the table and straight at Professor Flitwick. It changed sizes as it flew, and by the time it reached the tiny professor it was nearly as big as he was.

Professor Flitwick squeaked with surprise and dropped off the cushions behind his desk. Harry and Ron bent over, laughing. Hermione glanced up for the first time, frowned, and gave them both a glance of utter disgust.

The insect turned around, then, and came straight back at the other Harry and Ron, missing the top of Harry's invisible head by about an inch. He flinched and dived under the table, just barely avoiding legs. _What is that thing? It looks like something the twins would come up with._

Yelps drew his attention, and Harry peered out to see the other Harry and Ron pelting towards the door with the insect after them. He shook his head, but couldn't help a small smirk that worked its way over his lips. _First an invisible anaconda, then this. I think I'm—he's—going to be traumatized by bedtime._

The insect had caught up with the other Harry and Ron, and started stinging them, or maybe biting them. Harry couldn't tell from the yelping. He started to move into a position where he could see better, but two voices yelling, "_Finite Incantatum!_" made him turn his head in other directions.

Hermione was on her feet, of course, wand out. The other voice came from behind her, though, and Harry stared. _Neville?_

He was still small and plump, but he didn't look timid. He had his wand out and wore an expression of calm disgust that was almost the same as Hermione's. He watched as the insect fell to the floor and muttered to Hermione, "It's always something with them, isn't it?"

Hermione, looking much darker, muttered, "Yes, it is," and went behind the desk to help Professor Flitwick.

Harry found he didn't feel much like watching his other self whimper from the welts that now covered his body, or get a detention. He sneaked past while the others were occupied with his other self and Ron, and into the halls again.

He was promptly almost trampled by a bunch of first-years, and had to shrink back against the wall. He scowled. _It looks like there'll be some time before I can see Professor Dumbledore. I'd better find some place to hide where no one will find me._

He thought about the Room of Requirement, but someone could come in there. He didn't know everyone in this world. For all he knew, this Hermione would haul Harry and Ron in there to scold them.

Then he blinked, and grinned. _If the other Harry doesn't speak Parseltongue…_

Perfect.

~*~

Actually, as it turned out, it wasn't perfect. The second-floor girls' bathroom was incredibly busy, with girls pushing in and out at all times. Harry hovered outside against the wall until he was absolutely sure it was empty, then started forward—only to be knocked down by Hermione, of all people, going in. He sank back, ears burning, and shook his head.

__

I'm not going in there while she's in there.

He had to get in there, though, and so he debated for a while until he decided there was no choice for it but to use magic. Perhaps the professors would be too busy to notice, or perhaps there was no Filch in this world to prowl around and see him doing it. Just like everything else since he had come here, he would have to risk it.

Harry grimaced. _I'm getting tired of that, _he admitted to himself. Before he could talk himself out of it, he called on his good memories of home, especially laughing with his own Ron and Hermione, and shouted, "_Expecto Patronum!_"

The silver stag formed and bounded into the bathroom. There came immediate squeals of shock, and a moment later Hermione scuttled out, followed by three other girls. Harry waited until he was absolutely sure no one else would come out, then ducked swiftly in. There would be a professor coming to investigate soon. He had to hurry.

He slid over to what would have been the right sink in his own world, and closed his eyes in relief. There it was, the snake. He hissed, "_Open_," and the familiar tunnel to the Chamber of Secrets gaped before him.

He paused only to cast a concealing charm on the entrance, hoping that no one would reach out and touch it, then jumped down the tunnel.

This time, it was much more exhilarating. Harry almost relaxed and enjoyed it, until it suddenly occurred to him that he didn't know if he could get up it.

This presented something of a problem, as did the violent landing at the end. Harry tangled himself in his Invisibility Cloak yet again, and sprawled violently enough to almost break his glasses. He shook his head as he stood up, good mood vanished yet again. _I am going to be so glad when I can see Dumbledore._

He picked his way forward, wincing at the cracking of the rat skulls, pausing to let bad memories stream past him and vanish. They weren't as bad as the ones involving Sirius, though, so Harry thought he could bear them. He was gladder than ever that he hadn't watched that other Sirius tossing the other Harry in the air and calling him "godson."

He came to the doorway, and had to quash the suspicion that Tom Riddle was waiting behind it with a malevolent smile. That the other Harry didn't have a lightning scar was just about enough to make Harry decide that no Voldemort existed in this world.

__

That doesn't mean that Tom Riddle didn't exist, though.

Only one way to find out.

Harry hissed, and the snakes separated and slid aside. Harry held his breath, then relaxed when he saw no Tom Riddle standing on the other side, and started to congratulate himself on his cleverness.

"_Who isss there?_"

That had to stop when he caught sight of the very angry, very hungry basilisk just beyond the door, of course.

________________


	4. Ugly Words in Parseltongue

A/N: Thank you to everyone who reviewed! I'm really glad that people are enjoying the story so much. And sorry this is so late. I hope to have the next chapter, "Crazy Talk," posted by Sunday.

I'm afraid I really can't answer the questions I got asked without revealing too much about the plot, but this should hint at some of them.

At least, it will teach Harry not to play around with basilisks.

****

The Best of All Possible Worlds

Chapter Four: Ugly Words in Parseltongue

Harry swallowed, and tried to think of some response. Everything that came to mind had to be thrown away immediately. It was worse than when he was trying to think of some way to explain his presence to Dumbledore.

"_I can sssmell you,_" said the basilisk suddenly, tongue flicking out. Harry caught a glimpse of yellow as it turned its head, and promptly ducked his own face. He didn't know what would happen if he looked into the basilisk's eyes through the Invisibility Cloak, but he didn't fancy being petrified or eaten, or both.

He started inching off to the side, hoping the basilisk would miss him. If he could just step backward and close the Chamber doors...

"_Thisss isss my firssst chance at freedom,_" said the basilisk, and moved its body towards him, suddenly and horribly quick. "_Did you think I would give it up?_"

Harry hopped back, getting tangled in the Cloak, trying to avoid the basilisk's eyes, and cursing under his breath. Of course, that just made the great snake cock its head again, and then say, "_You are…here!_"

The fangs stabbed down. Harry dodged. There came a harsh clang off the stone, and then an odd silence.

Harry stood as still as he could, and controlled the temptation to look up. He wasn't stupid. _Well, not all the time._

Then the basilisk hissed again, each word stretched oddly in a way that Harry supposed was similar to human enunciation. "_I do not enjoy being made a fool of._"

Then it was after him, and Harry cast off the Cloak to run faster. He couldn't fool it anyway, and he was tired of tripping. He spun when he reached the far wall and crouched, holding out his wand. He had to avert his face slightly as the basilisk coiled towards him, but he thought he was still looking in something like the right direction as he yelled out, "_Incendio!_"

The fire sparked at the end of the basilisk's nose, from what Harry could see. He had a moment to feel satisfaction, and then one of the coils lashed forward and wrapped around him.

Harry gasped as the scales pressed against his ribs, and he learned what a real anaconda's hold probably felt like. He struggled furiously, but the pressure was intense enough to make him almost drop his wand, so he had to give that up. He held his wand close to his chest instead, and forced himself to wait as the basilisk tilted its head down towards him, gloating in Parseltongue all the while. "_Ssstupid ssspell…couldn't put out my eyesss, couldn't damage me with it…firssst sssnack in centuriesss…"_

Harry had been planning to use another spell the moment he got close enough to the eyes, but it seemed as if he were going to get to the fangs first. He had felt one of them second year, and that one was quite enough. He decided that another tactic might be in order.

"_Are you very hungry?"_ he asked.

There was a long silence. Harry sincerely hoped this wasn't as bad as the last one, and waited. At least he was no longer rising towards the mouth. On the other hand, the fangs were close enough that he imagined he could feel them brushing his hair, so he held still and hoped this would work.

"_How can you underssstand me?_" asked the basilisk, and its voice altered, so that it was hissing and pleading at the same time. "_Are you the Heir of Ssslytherin, come to ssset me on the mudbloodsss?_"

"_No_," Harry replied, wincing. "Mudblood" was an ugly word even in Parseltongue. "_But I could get you food._"

The basilisk was silent for another moment. Harry wondered if it took a long time to think about things, or was just very thorough. He wasn't sure which he hoped for. 

"_I could just ssslither out through the door and get my own,_" said the basilisk at last. "_But I can eat you firssst._" Seemingly satisfied with that, it once again began to lower its head. Harry caught a hint of a scent like old stone and dust, and panicked.

"_Incendio_!" he yelled again, this time setting the fire inside the basilisk's mouth.

There came a loud, angry roar, and Harry felt himself falling. He landed philosophically enough, he thought, considering all the falls he took lately, and rolled to absorb the blow as well as put out his hair, which was on fire. Then he lifted his head cautiously to watch the basilisk, ready to lower his face so that he couldn't get petrified.

The basilisk was rolling and thrashing, tongue flickering frantically, but breathing more flames than air by the look of it. The fangs were as long and deadly as Harry remembered, but they seemed oddly helpless to bite down and put the fire out. The basilisk began hissing once again, and Harry's eyes widened. He hadn't known that Parseltongue had those words in it, either.

Then the head half-turned, and Harry just saw yellow. He ducked, and ran towards the corner where he had left the Invisibility Cloak.

Nothing pursued him. Harry looked over his shoulder and saw the basilisk slithering as fast as it could go for the open door.

Harry hissed, "_Close!_' before he could even consider the consequences. 

The doors shut, just in front of the basilisk's snout. It made one attempt to fit part of its body through the gap, but it must have seen that it was going to be chopped in half if it persisted. It coiled in place instead, and watched the doors until they were shut completely.

Then it began turning its head back towards him.

Harry ducked under the Cloak. Maybe that would do something to slow the gaze, after all.

"_You are trapped in here with me, boy,_" said the basilisk, coming towards him again. The scales rasped almost gently on the stone. "_You didn't even consssider that, did you? Trapped, and no way to essscape. I will find you. A most tassty sssnack, and then I am no worssse than before._"

"_You don't have to do this," _said Harry, backing away along the wall. He didn't want to let the basilisk corner him. His grip on his wand had never been tighter, and he just hoped that his shaking voice didn't affect the pronunciation of the words and turn them into some kind of insult to the snake's parentage. "_I told you that I would fetch food for you. You can eat, as long as you stay in the chamber._"

"_You are no dessscendant of Sssalazar Ssslytherin,_" said the basilisk. "_You care more about mudbloodsss than whether or not I eat._" It said that as if it were the worst crime it could imagine, then flicked its tongue to catch Harry's scent again. Its head started to turn towards him. Harry ducked his head and scurried along the floor, trying not to imagine how much he must look like a mouse.

"_I could bring you other things to eat,_" he offered. "_There must be all kinds of meat in the kitchens._"

"_I want it alive, not dead,_" said the basilisk.

Harry felt an intense surge of irritation. The basilisk resembled everyone else in his life at the moment: not willing to listen to him, not willing to take what he could offer, but demanding something that Harry didn't want to give instead. He stopped running and glared as directly as he thought he could risk. "_You're hungry right now. This at least gets you something to eat._"

There was another long silence. Harry couldn't read this one any better than the others. Obviously, just because he could speak Parseltongue didn't mean he knew what a snake was thinking. 

__

On the other hand, I'm not exactly in the habit of chatting up snakes for a long conversation.

"_I am hungry,_" said the basilisk at last. "_But if you do not come back, then I will find you. I know your ssscent now. You are not the Heir of Ssslytherin, and I do not have to obey you."_

Harry breathed out, for what felt like the first time since the basilisk had started chasing him, and said, "_I know. What I promise, I will keep._"

"_You should._" The basilisk's tongue flickered once more. "_I can sssmell if you are lying."_

It slid away, towards the statue of Salazar Slytherin. Harry shook his head. He didn't know why the basilisk was content to obey Slytherin's Heirs. Ugly-looking thing

Of course, it might be content to obey him, too. It was letting him go, wasn't it? Harry thought it must be very hungry or very desperate.

He edged towards the Chamber doors, keeping an eye on the statue, but the basilisk didn't re-emerge. Quickly, he muttered the command, ducked out, closed the doors again, and then ran towards the pipe as fast as he could go. There had to be a way of getting back up it, or finding some other exit.

~*~

Three hours later, slimy and dirty and tired, Harry reemerged from a bathroom on the third floor. This one really did seem to be one that nobody used, and he rested his head on his hands for a moment, panting. He had searched the pipes until he had found one that had a ladder, and no dead end. Whoever had made the Hogwarts pipes had a sense of humor.

__

Didn't Salazar Slytherin build the Chamber of Secrets? A really ugly sense of humor, then.

He straightened up, aware that he was pressing his forehead against dirty stones, and that he had almost reached his limit. He would get to Dumbledore. Dumbledore would know how to fix everything, would have some explanation for how Harry had gotten here and what he was supposed to do to get home and why there was another him running around without a scar on his forehead. Dumbledore probably wouldn't even blink when Harry told him about the basilisk and having to get food for it. He would just nod and help Harry, his eyes twinkling. It was what he always did.

It was what he _better_ do. Harry was so fed up, he had started thinking he would hex the next person to cross his path, because it was better than blowing the entire castle up.

He let out his breath, a little startled to find himself still shaking, and winced when he felt the pull of his bruises. Maybe he would ask Dumbledore for some pumpkin juice and some healing Potions before he asked for anything else.

He stepped out of the bathroom and glanced up and down the halls from habit. Of course, no one could see him, but brushing against an invisible person in the hallway was something most people would notice.

"Come, my sweet…we must find them…"

Harry stiffened, then ducked back into the bathroom. Filch came around the corner, looking exactly the same as he always did, talking to the cat that followed at his heels. And it was definitely a cat, nor Mrs. Norris. Harry blinked at the white kitten with a blue ribbon around its neck, and wondered if he wanted to know.

__

No, he did not. Bloody other Harry and his bloody other world, anyway. Harry couldn't understand the differences. If he was here as part of some complex cosmic game or riddle, he refused to play and he refused to figure it out. He was going home, the minute he saw Dumbledore.

"At the feast…left the school in the care of old Argus…don't worry, I'll take _good_ care of it…"

Harry sighed. No use going back to Dumbledore's office, then. He would have to trek down to the Great Hall and wait for the Headmaster to finish eating, then follow him when he left. Harry only hoped that this Hogwarts didn't have some secret way back to the Headmaster's office that didn't exist in his own castle.

He found his way down easily enough, bar some moving staircases that had joined the conspiracy to make his life difficult. He reached the Great Hall at last, and slid in, glancing at the Head Table. He let out his breath in a little annoyed huff. Every other teacher looked to be there, but Dumbledore hadn't shown up yet.

Despite himself, Harry grew interested again as he studied the other teachers. Snape was still smiling madly, or at least in what constituted mad happiness for him. McGonagall looked no different than she did back home in Harry's world, speaking quietly to Hagrid, who sat beside her. Hagrid looked more dignified than Harry remembered, though, with an odd light in his eyes and full robes that had obviously been tailored to fit him. Harry wondered at it for a moment, then smiled. _Of course. Hagrid never got expelled, I bet._

His eyes moved past Hagrid, and his breath caught. He knew the man sitting in the next seat and didn't know him, all at the same time, the same way he had known and not known Sirius. Remus Lupin had much less gray in his hair, and his robes actually looked comfortable, not tattered. He turned and laughed at something Professor Sprout said, and even though Harry couldn't hear it above the roar of the Great Hall, he was sure that it was full and genuine laughter.

His mind filled with an image of what Professor Lupin had looked like when he saw him at the end of this last summer, and he turned his head, blinking his eyes. 

__

I'm glad it's different, he thought. _At least this Professor Lupin gets to be happy._

He looked around the Great Hall one more time. Everyone seemed to be waiting for Dumbledore, since there was no food on any of the plates yet, although many people were drinking pumpkin juice. There were many more people drinking that juice, though, Harry noted with a slow curiosity. There were Gryffindors he'd never seen before, and the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables looked swollen. There were even unfamiliar Slytherins at their table.

Harry felt himself sneer as he saw Draco Malfoy, holding forth among the Slytherins just as he always did at home. He was about to look away when Pansy Parkinson picked up her pumpkin juice and dumped it over Malfoy's head. Malfoy squawked and swiped at the juice dripping down his face, but Pansy and most of the other Slytherins just laughed.

Harry blinked a little. _Well, maybe some things are different._

The noise of a tapping fork caught his attention, and he turned expectantly around, thinking Dumbledore must have arrived while he was watching the Slytherins. Instead, though, Professor McGonagall was on her feet, and smiling as warmly as she could at the students. 

"I know that you have had a busy first day of classes," she announced, when the noise had somewhat calmed down. "And I would not normally trouble you with announcements on the first day of school, but I felt it fitting to inform you of the most important change now.

"Just as you have arrived for your first day, so your new Headmaster has just successfully completed his first day." She turned with a warm smile to the seat beside her. "Headmaster Hagrid, will you please stand so the students can welcome you?"

Amid a burst of enthusiastic applause from three tables and polite clapping mixed with jeers from the fourth, Harry sagged back against the wall and tried to think of what he was going to do now.


	5. Crazy Talk

****

A/N: Wow, did manage to get another chapter out on time! I'm amazed. 

Thanks to everyone who reviewed! The plot takes a somewhat different turn in this one, which I hope is still believable. It'll also change some future plot ideas I had, so I may have to do a bit of thinking before I write the next chapter.

And Greyhound Master: Good catch on who Harry'll talk to.

****

The Best of All Possible Worlds

Chapter Five: Crazy Talk

"I am very pleased to begin the new term with you," Hagrid said, in a voice devoid of the accent Harry was used to. It sounded as though he had learned how to talk from a book, or perhaps from Hermione. "I assure you that I will attempt to maintain the same standards in the school that Professor Dumbledore held up."

"That wouldn't be hard," muttered someone from the Slytherin table. Someone else giggled. Harry kept his eyes on Hagrid, hoping desperately that he would learn something about what had happened to Professor Dumbledore from the half-giant's speech.

"Alas for our loss," said Hagrid, and bowed his head. Numb, Harry just stared. "Professor Dumbledore was a good and brave man, but he had too great a fondness for magical sweets. I am sure that he and Mrs. Norris will both be missed."

There were more giggles from the Slytherin table, but Harry ignored them, as well as the rest of Hagrid's speech. He put his head in his hands instead.

__

Something to do with magical sweets. I should have known. He swallowed. _And because he had to play around with them, I may never get home!_

An entirely different sort of anger at Dumbledore began to grow in Harry. That he didn't know whether he was really angry at this world's version of Dumbledore or his own just made him more upset.

"But we cannot linger forever in the sadness of the past," Hagrid was saying when Harry looked up again. "We must sometimes look to the future. And I am sure that the future of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry will yet be bright with hope. When I walked these beloved halls as a student, never one day did I imagine that I might be standing in this place." He bowed his head. "Nor did I imagine what would have had to happen to grant me this place. But it has happened, and we have had a summer to mourn and settle our hearts. May we go on into the future, a united school, just as Professor Dumbledore would have wanted us to!"

Food at last appeared on the plates, and there were cheers and yells and clapping as Hagrid sat down. Harry thought it might have had more to do with the food than with the speech itself, though.

He drifted towards the Slytherin table, not hungry, but knowing he should steal something. He thought he should at least steal from the most deserving.

Malfoy was holding forth again by the time that Harry arrived behind him. "My _father_ had something to say about that prat assuming the duties of Headmaster," he said darkly, gesturing so emphatically with his cup that he nearly spilled pumpkin juice on Pansy. "He was voted down, of course. They all wanted someone _safe_ to fill Dumbledore's place." He sneered and bit into his bread. "But just you see. There'll be something done about this yet—"

"Shut up, Draco," said Pansy Parkinson. She only picked at her food, and seemed more bored than anything else as she watched the rest of the Slytherins eat. Harry carefully liberated some of her sausages, and she didn't even seem to notice. "You're always saying the same thing, and we're tired of hearing about it."

"The mudbloods will _pay_," said Malfoy, eating viciously enough to almost choke himself.

"That's not new, either," said Pansy, and appeared to give up on her food, leaning back instead. Harry maneuvered around her and snatched some food from Crabbe's plate.

Crabbe didn't appear to notice. He was talking to Goyle about something, low and intense. Harry would have tried to listen, but he was on edge and concerned he would hex someone for sure if he had to stay around and listen to Malfoy sneer about mudbloods. He eased himself back.

"I'll tell you something new, Pansy," said Malfoy just then, nearly as intensely as before. "Come to the Charms classroom at midnight and I'll tell you _everything._"

Pansy looked at him carefully. "Really?" she asked at last.

"Really," Malfoy confirmed, and turned back to his food.

Harry raised his eyebrows, then shook his head. _No, I'm not getting involved. I'm going to eat, and then talk to the one person who might help me._

He glanced over at the Gryffindor table, which he had consciously avoided doing. The other Harry and the other Ron were gesturing with their forks and talking with their mouths full. Hermione sat with her nose in a book, ignoring them as well as she could. Harry doubted the book had anything to do with other worlds, but he would go talk to Hermione anyway. She had to know _something._

Harry tried his best not to notice how pathetic that idea sounded.

He nibbled on the food, watching carefully just in case, and scrambled after Hermione when she stood up from the Gryffindor table. It helped that she wasn't going fast, just wandering along with her nose jammed in the pages and muttering something about grasshoppers' legs.

Harry glanced around. No one else was in sight. He took a deep breath, and pulled the Invisibility Cloak off.

"Hermione?" he asked.

"Just a minute, Harry," she said, and apparently finished reading until the end of the page. Harry contained his impatience by imagining that she might be reading about something that could help him. Then she turned around, looked at him, and openly stared. "What is the matter with you?" she asked. "Did you manage to trip over something on your way out of the Hall?"

"No," Harry said, and hesitated a long moment. But it wasn't as though Hermione would accuse him of being evil when she saw the lightning bolt scar, so he lifted his hair and let her see it.

Hermione blinked twice, then fixed him with the same patient stare she had been giving the other Harry. "I don't know what you used to draw that scar on, Harry, but it didn't work. It doesn't look like a bleeding wound. You should send it back to the twins and tell them to improve their product." She was already opening the book and turning around again.

"No, you don't understand," said Harry, stepping up to her and yanking the book out of her hands. Something about Potions, he saw, which wasn't really a surprise; nothing had helped him since he got here. Hermione gave an indignant squeak and tried to take the book back, but Harry held it out of her reach. "I'm not the Harry you know. I come from another world, and I really need your help."

Hermione made a disgusted noise. "Really, Harry! You usually come up with better stories." She snatched the book as he stared at her, and shook her head when he tried to take it back. "I'm not buying this one. I had my fill of mysterious prophecies and you supposedly being stalked by evil wizards last year. Prophecies are serious business, you know, and you shouldn't joke about them."

"I know!" Harry yelled, his throat seizing. "I'm under one!"

Hermione blew out her breath and assumed a patient stance. "You can't be under one, Harry. What would you be under one to do? To get Ron to do his homework?" She made a noise somewhere between a giggle and a cough. "Not that it wouldn't be useful, of course, but—"

"Hermione? Who's that?"

Harry looked over Hermione's shoulder, and winced. Ron stood there, staring at him in a way that seemed to see straight past his fringe to the lightning bolt scar underneath. And next to him was the other Harry, his eyes just starting to widen and his mouth starting to open.

Hermione turned around, saw the other Harry, and whipped back, her face already pale. "Who are you?" she asked sharply.

Harry pulled the Cloak over his head, and vanished. All three of them jumped back with a yell. Harry was glad to see that they didn't immediately start reaching around with patting hands; maybe this other Harry didn't have his father's Invisibility Cloak. Harry slipped off to the side and ran down the hall, keeping as quiet as he could.

__

So much for that plan. Frustration and anger made him want to yell, but he kept it quiet as he headed for the kitchens again. _I suppose I should have waited until Hermione was alone and then asked her, but I didn't know the other Harry joked about things like that._

Bitterness overwhelmed him for a moment. _I wish I could joke about that. I wish his life was mine._

~*~

"_You did come back. I wondered._"

Harry dumped the pile of meat on the Chamber floor and then went back for the next armful. He'd thrown everything down the entrance in the second-floor bathroom and then carried it in one pile at a time. "_I told you I would,_" he said to the basilisk, which was just slithering out of the statue of Salazar Slytherin. "_Don't doubt me again._"

"_I will not._" The basilisk slithered over, with a rustle and scrape of scales on stone. "_Thisss isss an absssurdly sssmall amount._"

"_You've gone hungry for centuries and not died,_" Harry suggested as he dragged in the next armful. "_Put up with it._"

"_I will_." The basilisk dropped its head. Harry turned hastily aside so the yellow eyes couldn't catch him, and the snake's hissing took on a gleeful tone. "_Can it be that I frighten you ssstill_?"

Harry didn't choose to answer, bringing in the third armful and then retreating to the doors. The basilisk fed half-turned away from him, and Harry was just as glad. He wanted to stand there and watch it finish, then shut the doors so he could be sure it wouldn't get out. 

And yet, he also wanted to stay and talk. The basilisk was the only person he could talk to since he'd come here—

__

Calm down, Harry. He shook his head. _He's a snake, not a person._

The basilisk finished the last armful, and then slithered back towards the statue. "_I find I do not dissslike your company,_" it added over the sound of its slithering. "_You may return, and ssspeak with me if you desssire._"

"_You'll just try to convince me to let you out,_" said Harry, as he stepped back and hissed the command for the doors to close.

"_Isss that so wrong?_" the basilisk asked innocently before the doors slammed shut.

Harry took a deep breath and shut his eyes. He would solve this, somehow. He certainly didn't need to come down into the Chamber of Secrets and speak to a basilisk for company, even if the basilisk was the only one who appeared willing to listen to him.

He turned around, and froze. There was a gleam of light far down the tunnel, and a voice asking, "Do you think there are spiders around here?"

"Something probably ate them," said Hermione primly, ignoring Ron's whimper of fear. "Come on. What do you think is up ahead? I can see carvings of snakes—"

__

They must have found the entrance in the bathroom, Harry realized as he ducked against the wall. _Hermione was in there. She probably saw the stag come bounding in and connected it to me somehow. _He subdued a groan and slid carefully to the side as the three of them came around the corner, Hermione in the lead with her wand lit. The other Harry and Ron were just behind her, glancing around uneasily. Harry rolled his eyes. _Why does my other self have to be such a coward?_

Hermione gasped as she looked up at the doors, but it was a gasp of wonder. Harry was just glad he had closed them before she found the way here. She would probably have tried to enter and name the species of the basilisk if he hadn't.

"Do you know what this is?" she demanded, turning to face the other Harry and Ron. "The Chamber of Secrets! It must be! Salazar Slytherin built it, and it could only be opened by someone who speaks Parseltongue!"

"Like the invisible anaconda in the garden!" said the other Harry.

"What?" Hermione asked. Harry winced.

"Something invisible grabbed me this morning and hissed in my face," said the other Harry. "And then you saw me—well, I saw him too—and then we come in here and find this. It's been a strange day." He looked at the doors, such a frightened expression on his face that Harry now wished he had left the doors open. The basilisk would teach him what fear was really like.

"I think it must have been him," said Hermione, obviously thinking fast. "I've read about this before. There are theories about some magical mirrors—reflections, you know—and the reflections reduplicating the self in such terms that they become what that self would never be."

"Talk English, Hermione!" said Ron, glancing uneasily at the rat skulls.

"I think this creature is Harry's reflection," said Hermione, her face triumphant. "It escaped from its mirror somehow. It's everything Harry's not, even though it looks like him. It has a scar he doesn't, and it's evil, and it can speak Parseltongue. It even claimed to be under a prophecy." She looked severely at the other Harry. "I think the stories you were telling last year were _true_ in some other place, and so they're true of your reflection. He knew me. Maybe he even knows a Hermione in his own world."

Harry closed his eyes. _Of course, she would come up with something that makes so much sense, and is still completely wrong. That's my life lately._

"What do we do with him, then?" Ron asked. Harry opened his eyes and saw his friend's—or the copy of his friend's—face assume a familiar stubborn expression. 

"We have to put him back into his mirror," said Hermione. "But he'll be scared of us, and if he's evil, then he won't cooperate. I think we should find him first, and then we can make sure that he understands we just want to help." She held her wand high. Harry tried to edge to the side without stepping on a rat skull.

"But I thought you said he was evil," the other Harry complained, a bit of a whine in his voice.

"Then we'll just spell him," said Hermione, and held the wand out towards the wall. "I think he's using an Invisibility Cloak. _Revelo!_"

Harry jumped as a blue shine suddenly surrounded the Invisibility Cloak, making it obvious. He dodged to the side, but the glow followed, and the next instant three wands were trained on him.

"We have you," said Hermione calmly. "You might as well come out of the Cloak, you know. Then we'll know that you want to cooperate."

Slowly, Harry pulled the Cloak off, and watched their eyes widen as they looked at him. "A perfect copy," Ron breathed. "I don't believe it."

"I'm not just a copy," said Harry, snapping the words out so that he wouldn't yell and lunge at them. "And I didn't come through a mirror. I really did come from another world, one where I'm under a prophecy and an evil wizard named Voldemort is after me—"

"I've never heard of a wizard called Voldemort," Hermione interrupted. "Who is he?"

"An evil wizard in my world," said Harry. "Look, can you find a way to get me back or not?"

"Was it you in the garden this morning?" the other Harry demanded, leaning close to him. "Speaking Parseltongue?"

"Yes—"

"_Petrificus Totalus!_"

"Ron!" Hermione cried, but the Full Body-Bind had already hit Harry and dropped him to the ground. He hit his head sharply enough on something that blackness was already creeping around the edges of his vision, and dropped his wand. He saw Ron run forward and snatch it up.

"Why did you do that?" Hermione was asking, her voice dangerous.

"You said he could be evil," Ron replied, sulking. "I was just helping—"

"Without even giving him a chance to speak—" Hermione stopped with an exasperated sigh. "It doesn't matter. Let's go see the Headmaster."

She gestured at Harry with her wand, said, "_Mobilicorpus,_" and floated him towards the entrance from the pipe. Ron and the other Harry walked beside him, occasionally staring into his face and discussing him as though he wasn't there.

Harry floated along in resignation. _Hagrid can help… I hope. And at least someone knows I'm here now. That has to be good. Right?_


	6. Where Are You Going, Miss Granger?

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A/N: Honest-to-goodness, last update for this week. I really do need to get my papers and my grading finished.

But I suddenly know where the story is going again, so I wanted to write this chapter before it could get away.

Many, _many_ thanks to all the people who have reviewed! To those who asked about what Malfoy was doing, how did Hagrid become Headmaster, etc., I'll ask you to have faith; those things will be explained. (And if I forget something, feel free to prod me!) I just can't tell them now without ruining the story.

****

SPASH Panther: Ron and this Harry are friends with Hermione. Sorry if it didn't seem that way.

****

Gallandro-83: The stag Harry mentioned was the Patronus he summoned in the third chapter to clear the girls' bathroom out.

And on we go!

****

The Best of All Possible Worlds

Chapter Six: Where Are You Going, Miss Granger?

"Do you think he really is under a prophecy?"

"How would I know?" The other Harry shook his head, hair falling over his scarless brow into eyes that looked as worried as if this was the worst thing that had ever happened to him. Harry longed, intensely, bitterly, for that to be true of him, too. "I just made up those stories. I don't know anyone who actually is under a prophecy."

"But he could be," Ron insisted, walking backwards as Hermione floated Harry out of the bathroom—she'd levitated them all up the pipe—and staring at Harry. "Maybe he ran into this world to escape it."

"Then maybe we can make him tell it to us!" breathed the other Harry, his eyes lighting up. "Then the twins could use it in their joke shop somehow."

__

Not a chance, Harry thought, and shifted his eyes to the ceiling overhead. It didn't shut off their speculation about him, but at least he didn't have to see the looks they gave him, as if he were an animal in a Muggle zoo.

They rounded what Harry knew was the last corner before the Headmaster's office, and he tried to brace himself. _Hagrid is friendly. I just hope he hasn't changed all that much in this world._

"And where are you going, _Miss_ Granger?"

Harry would have run away screaming if he could. As it was, he had to float staring at the ceiling and hope that this would be over soon. Perhaps this world's Snape would just be content to sneer at him, take points from Gryffindor, sneer at the other Harry, take more points from Gryffindor, and stalk away.

"Professor Snape!" squeaked Hermione, sounding remarkably un-prefectlike. She recovered herself a moment later. "We found someone who looks like Harry," she said proudly. "We think he must have come through a mirror. We're taking him to the Headmaster to see what he says about him."

Soft footfalls crossed the floor, and then this world's Snape was peering into his face. Harry glared back. It was the only thing he could do.

"Interesting," breathed Snape, and then whirled and looked at Hermione. "And how am I to know, Miss Granger, that this is the truth, and not just another of the jokes that your bold and exalted House likes to play on its own members?"

Hermione stepped up beside Harry and pulled back his fringe, revealing the scar. Harry floated, and felt more than ever like an exhibit.

It was almost worth it to see Snape's reaction, though.

He actually stumbled backwards, hitting his shoulders on the wall and dropping something that shattered with a sound of breaking glass. His face had gone an unhealthy pale color, which looked even worse on him than his usual sallow one, and he was breathing very fast. He stared at Harry as though he could make the scar go away by sheer wishing. Harry watched in interest. It was too bad he didn't know what he'd done; he could have tried to duplicate the effect on his own Snape when he got home.

Another wave of worry swept him. _If I ever get home._

Hermione interrupted both Harry's thoughts and the muffled snickers of the other Harry and Ron. "Professor? Are you all right?"

Snape was already straightening, his robes billowing about him as though nothing had happened. "Quite," he said chillingly. "And I do not know why you permitted yourself to rush to conclusions, Miss Granger. A young witch of your obvious _intelligence_—" the sneer on that word was massive "—should have considered other options before turning to the Duplicis Theory. This is undoubtedly one of your Housemates playing a rather bad joke. I understand that with the Weasley twins gone, you feel a need to uphold House traditions, but this is idiotic even for Gryffindors."

"Professor—" Hermione began.

"It could be Polyjuice Potion!" Harry heard his own voice say, and rolled his eyes. "Didn't you think of _that_, Professor? You should, being a Potions Master and everything."

There was a very long silence from Snape's direction. The other Harry and Ron were still snickering. Harry wondered idly if they didn't know how to read their Snape's moods as well as he did, or if this Snape was usually kinder. When the icy voice started speaking again, slowly, menacingly, he decided it was the former.

"Ten points from Gryffindor, Mr. Potter, for impugning the intelligence of a Professor. Fifteen points from Gryffindor for insulting me personally. Twenty points from Gryffindor for being disgracefully stupid; the Polyjuice Potion, assuming anyone was stupid enough to steal from me to make it, would produce a perfect copy, without the scar. And twenty-five points from Gryffindor, Miss Granger, for using magic on a fellow student. I shall take this troublemaker back to my own offices and find out which of your Housemates it is. _You_ will return to your tower immediately, and not stir out for the rest of the evening. Do I make myself clear?"

"Hey!" Ron broke in indignantly. "We might have prefect duties."

"You are excused them for the evening," Snape said, voice softer and colder still. "And Mr. Potter. If this does turn out to be a case of Duplicis, I expect you to stand ready to answer some harsh questions."

"I don't understand, Professor Snape," said the other Harry. Harry himself sighed. _Does he always whine?_

"Doubles do not usually emerge from their mirrors unless something is very wrong in one world or another," said Snape smoothly. "Sometimes, however, an untruth great enough can draw them through. I have heard stories of prophecies and evil wizards. I believe you were spreading them last year…?"

Sullen silence.

"If you do not want to admit them, then they are all the likelier to be true," said Snape, now sounding almost cheerful again. "Twenty-five points from Gryffindor for being a liar, Mr. Potter. _Mobilicorpus._" He waved his wand at Harry, who felt himself floating in a new direction, back down towards the dungeons. He scowled a little and wondered if he would ever get to walk anywhere under his own power.

For a time, he could hear voices behind him, what sounded like Hermione sniffling and Ron and the other Harry cursing Professor Snape, Potions, and Slytherins in general. Then they began to descend, and the sounds were lost.

"What I told young Mr. Potter is quite true."

Harry started a little. His own Snape had never shown an urge to chat with him. He had assumed that this one wouldn't want to talk to him, either.

"Duplicis is very rare," Snape went on, eyes fixed on the hallway ahead as if there were something fascinating in the shadows. "The word means doubled, of course, and in that sense it does mean one double forced out of his own world. But it can also mean deceitful. A double can emerge as the result of deceit on the part of someone in our own, normal world." Harry seethed at the implication that his own world wasn't normal, but remained silent. If the Snape of this world was a Legilimens, he gave no sign that he had noticed Harry's thoughts. "I do not know if Mr. Potter's lies were egregious enough to push the balance between worlds out of place, but I would not be surprised." His voice sneered. "I once knew his father quite well, and there is no lie that James Potter would not speak."

Harry just stayed quiet. It seemed the best course. He had no idea what might have happened in _this_ world to make Snape hate his dad; it just appeared he did. At least the way he talked made it seem like James was still alive.

They entered Snape's office, and Snape snapped, "_Finite Incantatum._" Harry fell hard enough to bounce on the floor. He winced, as the bruises from his previous falls and the blackness from what he almost thought was a concussion all protested. He stood up at once, felt for his wand, and then cursed softly. Ron had taken it.

"So you do have a tongue." Snape stalked over to the other side of his desk, which was piled high with papers, books, and unpleasant-looking rolls of what was probably skin. "Explain to me your name and where you came from, then."

Harry studied Snape carefully. Not the ally he would have chosen. On the other hand, he wasn't getting out of here, most likely, until he gave an explanation that satisfied this world's Snape. He probably couldn't use the Duplicis Theory, either, since he hadn't come through a mirror.

"My name is Harry Potter," he said at last.

"And you are from another world?" Snape's voice as he leaned forward across the desk was almost lazy, but he had a pale shadow of the same intense look he had given Harry's scar earlier. Harry stared at him. Snape might be interested in someone from another world, yes, but why was he acting this way?

"Yes," he said simply. "I don't know what happened. I got hit by a lightning bolt, and I was here." The simple pleasure of telling someone made him start talking haphazardly, almost forgetting what he was saying. "I woke up in Godric's Hollow. It was so strange. My parents were alive, or my Mum anyway, and my other self is so different from me. He can't speak Parseltongue, and he doesn't have the scar, and he's such a prat, and—"

"You speak Parseltongue?"

Harry looked up, and saw Snape's wand pointed right at him. He promptly froze, and cursed himself. _Everyone hates Parselmouths here, it seems._

"Yes," he said carefully. 

"Naturally?"

__

What the hell does that mean? Harry thought, but didn't see why it was any of Snape's business. "Of course," he said. The business of Voldemort and the scar and that possible means of talking to snakes wasn't something he cared to go into while Snape was glaring down his wand at him.

Snape let out a small breath and lowered his wand at last, though he didn't let go of it. "I see," he said. "Then it is entirely possible that you may be Potter's dark reflection." The idea seemed to amuse him, at least judging from the way his eyes narrowed. "And you would be in Slytherin as well?"

__

Why not? Harry thought. _Time to see how well I can lie._ "Of course," he said blandly.

Snape didn't seem to notice anything wrong. "Then I suppose you will not object if I bring one of your Housemates in this world into the matter," he said, stalking towards the door. Harry wondered idly if the man had any means of motion that was not stalking, gliding, or the equivalent. Snape pivoted, robes billowing behind him, and glared. "She is a young woman of extraordinary tact and intelligence. I trust that what she says will not leave this room. May I depend on you for that as well?"

"I only want to go home," said Harry.

"That doesn't answer my question," said Snape, his wand rising a little.

Harry held onto his temper. He could imagine all the hexes he wanted, but he couldn't perform them without his wand, and it would be best not to start something with Snape he couldn't finish. "I promise."

Snape nodded once. "Stay here. And _don't touch anything,_" he added, as though Harry had to be told. He didn't quite slam the door, but he did shut it behind him very hard.

Harry sat down in an uncomfortable chair, and rubbed his head. If the pain grew bad enough, he would have to ask Snape to do something about it. The blackness was going away, though, so maybe it wasn't a concussion after all.

No, he realized after a moment, it was something else, a pain in a most familiar place. Harry's hand moved around to the front of his forehead, and the scar.

"Damn it, not now," he muttered.

The pain grew steadily worse, and the flashes of darkness swirled around Harry again, this time taking on recognizable shapes. He could see a pale gleam off to the side that was surely a face, and then hear a voice speaking Parseltongue. His stomach seized, and a roll of nausea traveled through him. _There is a Voldemort in this world after all, he's just lain low, and he wants—_

"Mr. Potter!"

Harry jerked his head up, and the darkness and the pain retreated almost at once. Snape was standing in the doorway, his eyes narrowed. Behind him, peering over his shoulder with a face that held a mixture of disgust and fascination, was Pansy Parkinson.

"What's a Gryffindor doing in your office, Professor?" she asked.

"Not a Gryffindor, Miss Parkinson," said Snape, stalking towards Harry again. "He only looks like one. He is a Slytherin in his own world." He knelt in front of Harry and reached up to tilt his head back and forth with surprisingly gentle hands. "Did you receive a knock on the skull when I dropped you?"

"Before that," said Harry with some difficulty, blinking as though he was fighting to keep awake. He didn't want to reveal the pain through the scar yet. "When Ron and Hermione and Har—the other Harry caught me."

"I see," said Snape, his lips thinning. "No, he would not be careful." He stood up and moved towards the racks of Potions on the walls, adding over his shoulder, "Miss Parkinson, please look him in the eyes."

Harry's uneasiness grew as Pansy stepped in front of him. She looked exactly as pug-faced as Pansy did in his own world, but far more determined, in a way that reminded him of a cruel Hermione. She stared into his eyes, and Harry felt the familiar touch of a mind searching his own, sifting his memories.

Harry Occluded his mind as best he could, and glared at her. Pansy stepped back a moment later, looking faintly surprised. "He does come from another world, Professor," she added over her shoulder, without taking her gaze off Harry. "I can see Dumbledore still alive there." She paused, and gave Harry an appraising glance. "And Sirius Black is dead."

"What a wonderful world you must live in," said Snape dryly, coming back with a bottle of something dark green. "Do drink it all, Mr. Potter."

Harry divided his gaze between the bottle and Pansy. Snape probably didn't have any particular reason to hate _him_, but he had had Pansy read his mind, without explaining beforehand what would happen. And then there was the crack about Sirius. Harry wasn't feeling very trusting.

"Drink up, Mr. Potter," said Snape, his voice gone distinctly cooler, and Harry drank. The potion didn't taste too bad, though it did feel thick and slimy as it slid down his throat, and the pain in his head vanished almost at once. Harry gave the bottle back with a nod of thanks, and Snape sat down before him, regarding him thoughtfully.

"I suppose that you'll want me to go to the Headmaster?" Harry asked, when some moments had passed with both Snape and Pansy staring at him. Pansy didn't try Legilimency on him again, for which Harry was grateful. He didn't know if he could have kept his anger and uneasiness tucked away from her, or the reasons for them.

Snape laughed aloud, the sound abrupt as a crow's call. Harry jumped, and Pansy smirked at him. "Ah, yes, of course," said Snape. "The Headmaster will immediately begin to research magical creatures that can pass through mirrors, and in two dozen years he may have found a way to send you home." He paused, the laughter gone as though chopped off, and glared at Harry. "Slytherins care for their own. We will care for you, for though you wear the outer form of Harry Potter, you do not have his mind. But you must keep _quiet_, do you understand? Stay hidden in my office. Keep your word not to speak of the matter outside this room. I will bring you food and do research on a magical means of sending you home. But you must not reveal yourself until such a time as I deem that you may do so, if that ever happens."

Harry felt a flash of anger at having to trust Snape this way. Pansy promptly looked hard at him. Harry looked away and summoned what Occlumency he could control, half-shutting his eyes.

"I understand," he said.

"Good," said Snape, with a short nod of his head, and then turned to Pansy. "Miss Parkinson, have you further information to report to me on Mr. Malfoy's activities?"

"No, Professor Snape," said Pansy carefully, with a glance at Harry that Snape blatantly ignored. 

"Then you may leave. I believe that I nearly made you late for a meeting with him."

Pansy nodded, and hurried out the door. Harry looked at Snape, who cut him off before he could even begin to speak. "Internal Slytherin matters. Quite irrelevant to you, as you are not long for this world. Do not inquire about them."

Harry sighed, wondering if the his own Slytherins acted like this among themselves. "Yes, sir. Do you have a place I can sleep?"

Snape transfigured the chair in which Harry sat to a mattress without a word. Harry fell hard onto it, but didn't give Snape the satisfaction of making any outcry.

He fell asleep immediately, despite the fleeting thoughts of his Invisibility Cloak, down in the tunnel, or his wand, with Ron.

~*~

__

"There can be no doubt, then?" The voice was soft and eager. "The boy has vanished completely?"

"From what I was able to determine, Master." The voice was squeaking, considerably higher-pitched than the first one, and shaking now and then. "I c-could not find a trace of him."

"Excellent, Wormtail." A pale hand moved into view, caressing the head of a great snake coiled beside the chair. "Of course, it could be a trick of the old fool, so we will wait before attacking. But prod our associates in the Ministry on anyway. I want the Death Eaters gathered to attack on—"

~*~

"Mr. Potter!"

The harsh hiss of the whisper brought Harry awake at once. Trembling, he opened his eyes and looked at Snape, who shook him hard.

"I should like to ask you what kind of nightmares are severe enough to make a Slytherin scream," he hissed. "But there is an enemy coming, and he must not know you are here. Do not move, no matter what you may see or hear."

Harry, shaken with thoughts of a Voldemort in this world coming nearer and nearer, nodded. Snape flicked his wand, murmuring something Harry couldn't hear over the pounding of his own heart, and Harry saw the room dim and blur. He blinked, resisting the urge to wave a hand and see if there was really a cloak of some kind stretched over him.

Snape whirled away, just as the door opened without a knock. Harry strained his eyes, wondering if it was Voldemort, or Wormtail. What kind of attack had he been ordering? Was Snape a Death Eater in this world? Had he just walked straight into a trap without knowing it?

But the light caught on pale hair as the other figure stepped into the room and smiled at Snape. Harry held himself still, resisting the urge to shut his eyes and hope this was all just part of his dream. He was glad that he didn't have his wand now, or he thought he might have tried _Crucio_ again, with distinctly better results.

"Greetings, Severus," said a voice that Harry also knew too well for his own good. "I believe you know what I have come about."

"Lucius," said Snape, with the barest inclination of his head. "What can I do to help?"


	7. The Star of Morning

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A/N: Well, here I am, with another chapter! Sorry for the delay, but since schoolwork's out of the way now, I should be able to update more often.

Thank you so much for the reviews! Everyone asked _very_ good questions…which I'm afraid I can't answer yet. This chapter does give some more hints, though, especially about what world Harry's dreams come from.

And back we go again. I keep thinking up more problems to dump on "our" Harry. Poor kid.

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The Best of All Possible Worlds

Chapter Seven: The Star of Morning

"You can do much to help me," said Lucius, and then his voice deepened as though he was going to make some sort of grand pronouncement. "If you want to help, of course."

Snape watched him calmly. Harry, blinking now and then from the sweat creeping into his eyes, thought that he saw a tiny flinch at the corner of the man's face, but none of it made its way into his expression. "Of course I want to help, Lucius. You know that I share your goals."

That evidently wasn't the kind of thing the Death Eater—_although who knows if he's a Death Eater in this world?_ Harry thought—wanted to hear. He stared at Snape, who stared back. There was a long moment when Harry wondered if they would do anything else, and if not, whether it might be possible for him to slip past them and out into the corridor. Then he remembered that the spell masking him wasn't an Invisibility Cloak, and couldn't be trusted to move with him. He resigned himself to a long space of boredom.

It was broken abruptly when Lucius learned forward and pulled out something small and white from a pocket in his robes. "Can you deny that you would have liked to get your hands on this?" he asked, holding it just out of an easy grasp.

Snape drew in his breath sharply. Harry squinted, but could make out nothing more threatening than a tiny crystal ball. It looked like the kind of thing Professor Trelawney would squint into before proclaiming that he would die a particularly nasty and permanent death this time. Harry supposed it had to be more than that, since it seemed to affect Snape so much, but he didn't know what—

Then Lucius moved the thing.

It flashed and glittered, and light seemed to rush into it. In seconds, it was filled with glittering green dots, joined by blue ones. Harry rolled his eyes towards the ceiling, but saw nothing there that could be causing the reflections.

"The Star of Morning," said Lucius, in a deeply reverent voice that seemed designed to make Snape cower.

Snape only stared, though, then shook his head. "And the dots?"

"Why do you think I sought it?" Lucius asked, voice growing sharper. "The green lights are purebloods, all the purebloods in Hogwarts." He tilted the ball again, and smiled as the dots stayed in place, the radiance that shone into it growing brighter. "The blue ones are Mudbloods." For a moment, his face contorted, and Harry caught a glimpse of the man he had seen that night in the Department of Mysteries. It made him shiver and pull back further on the mattress, then freeze as he wondered if that had disrupted the masking spell. But Lucius didn't glance at him, instead spitting the next words with a particularly dedicated disdain. "And the Star of Morning will do what the legends say it will do. It will eliminate the Mudbloods." He lifted his head and fixed his gaze on Snape, and Harry really wished he could see the Professor's face at that moment. "If we can only find a group of wizards strong and dedicated enough to use it."

There was a long moment where Snape only breathed, and Harry stared at the Star. It was glowing innocently enough now, though it didn't lose those dots again. _Could it really do that? I've never heard of anything like that at home—_

In my own world, right. I suppose that something like that could easily exist here.

"I must think about this," said Snape at last, his voice thick with an emotion that Harry couldn't identify. "You know that I cannot risk exposing myself at the moment—"

"I said nothing about 'at the moment,' did I?" Lucius asked, and tucked the Star of Morning into a pocket of his robes. "No, by all means, wait to commit. We are using the old fool's death, and the new fool's ascension, to maneuver our people into place anyway. Wait, Severus." He turned away, his robes billowing, then threw the last words back over his shoulder in what Harry thought was an unnecessarily dramatic gesture. "But don't wait too long."

He swept out, and the door shut. Snape stood staring at it, and didn't appear to breathe now. Harry wondered how long he was supposed to wait under the protection of the spell, which was becoming steadily more stifling and uncomfortable.

At last Snape whirled around and stalked over, dispelling the magic with a whispered word. Then he grabbed Harry's robes and stared into his eyes.

"You will tell no one of what you saw here tonight," he said in a whisper that left flecks of spit on Harry's cheeks. "You understand me?"

Harry managed to hold his gaze, and nod. Of course he was going to break his word if he thought he had to. Someone should know—

Then the bitterness, and the realization, came crashing down on him again. Who should know? He was in a world far from home, a world where no one would stop to help him, and where everyone seemed ready to believe that he was evil for speaking Parseltongue. Harry bowed his head.

Seeming satisfied with the boy's air of defeat, Snape laid him back down. "In the morning, we will speak again," he said. "Sleep until—"

The door of the office burst back open, and Pansy Parkinson ran in, looking on the verge of tears. "Professor? I have to speak to you right away, it's urgent—"

This time, Snape seized her arm and swept her out of the office. Harry sighed and lay back down on the mattress, still shaking a little. 

__

It doesn't seem fair that everyone who's Muggle-born here could die from the Star of Morning, he thought drowsily. _But I don't know what to do about it. I suppose I should wait and see what happens. _

The darkness took him once again.

And then the voices, and the faces.

~*~

__

"I can find no sign of Harry Potter, Master." That voice was one Harry knew. He strained his eyes, and hissed when the face of Bellatrix Lestrange came clear through the murky darkness that shrouded the room—wherever it was.

"You are certain?" The voice was full of glee.

"Positive, Master."

The high, cold voice laughed. "What a comfort it is, to have faithful servants," it whispered. "Then we will attack on Halloween. Tell Lucius Malfoy to ready our allies. We will give the old fool Dumbledore a Halloween feast to remember!"

~*~

Harry's eyes flew open, and he controlled the impulse to cry out as Snape came back into the office and eyed him intently. 

"More nightmares?" he sneered after a moment.

Harry had no intention of telling him what they were about, so he merely shrugged and said, "What time is it, sir?"

"Nearly morning." Snape set something down beside the mattress with a hard thump. Looking at it, Harry recognized a tray of bread, cheese, and eggs, with a glass of pumpkin juice beside them. "I am going to teach classes today. _You_ are going to stay in my office and not touch anything. Is that clear?"

Harry looked away, as much to escape Snape's gaze as to hide the rebellion in his eyes. "Yes, Professor," he said quietly.

"Good," said Snape, and he actually sounded pleased. "Then we will speak again when my classes are finished." He turned and swept out the door without giving Harry a chance to respond, shutting it firmly behind him. Harry stared after him for a moment, then bit into the eggs. It was the biggest meal he'd had in a day, but it wasn't what was occupying his thoughts right now.

Those dreams were from home. They had to be, since Voldemort was talking about Dumbledore. Harry still wasn't sure where Voldemort was in this world, but he didn't think that it mattered. He had to get home, and stop the attack that was going to happen on Halloween. Or maybe even prevent it, since Voldemort seemed set to attack only because he wasn't there.

There was, of course, the problem that he had no idea how to get home. And then there was Lucius Malfoy and the Star of Morning. Someone had to be told, and Snape and Pansy didn't seem inclined to go to Hagrid. Harry was the only one who could do something.

Harry scowled and controlled the impulse to throw the roll he held across the room. _Why am I always the one who has to save the bloody world?_

But no one showed up to answer that, or explain, or apologize, so Harry sighed heavily and went back to eating his breakfast.

~*~

By what Harry thought was about noon, given that dozens of feet had trampled past the office to the Great Hall not too long ago, he was bored. No, not just bored, he thought, as he paced for the fiftieth time under the shelves that held racks of potions. Bored was when he was content to look at the potions and wonder what each one of them did. He was _deathly_ bored, in which he wanted to take the potions from the racks and try them one by one.

His thoughts had continued to churn around the problems of getting home and stopping Malfoy, neither of which he seemed able to do anything about. Then they had turned around, and hit on something very simple: two small problems that he could do something about.

__

Ron has my wand. And the Invisibility Cloak is down near the Chamber. I have to get both of them back before I can leave, anyway.

Those two things made Snape's advice—well, command—not to leave his office look very small in comparison.

__

I can go right now, while everyone's at lunch, Harry reasoned, edging slowly towards the door. He wouldn't put it past Snape to have established a guard on it, maybe Pansy. _No one will notice me._

He listened very hard, and heard nothing. Then he opened the door—

And felt rather silly when no one jumped out at him, cursing his name or telling him to go back in the office right now. Harry let out his breath, and grinned a little sheepishly. _I knew everyone was in the Great Hall._

He set off, keeping his eyes on the floor and his fringe swept forward over his lightning bolt scar as much as he could. If someone was coming out of the Hall, they would probably think he was just this world's Harry Potter scurrying away to look up obscure information somewhere.

__

Well, maybe not, Harry had to admit. _Does he even do that, I wonder? He didn't have to defeat Voldemort, either when he was a baby or when he came to Hogwarts. Maybe this Hermione's the only one out of them who uses the Library._

He was just passing the gargoyle that marked the Headmaster's office when it slid aside. Harry jumped, then hurried faster than ever, planning to have his back to whoever it was when he came out.

It didn't work. A voice that seemed no more than vaguely familiar called out, "Prankster! Where are you going?"

Harry took a deep breath, tried to calm his wildly pounding heart, reminded himself to act like a prat, and turned around.

A man with some very slight streaks of gray in otherwise very dark hair strode towards him, smiling. His eyes shone in a way that Harry supposed Fred and George Weasley's would when they were grown up, and he reached out and clasped Harry in a hug before Harry could even think of resisting. "I came to school specifically to see you," he said into Harry's shoulder. "Quite a greeting for your dad, to run away like that!"

Harry froze, and closed his eyes. For a second, he was sure that he was going to crack apart and just start sobbing hysterically. 

Then he reminded himself that he didn't have time for that. This wasn't really his dad. _His_ dad had died at Voldemort's hands. This was James Potter, the other Harry's father. It helped, though not much.

At least Harry didn't crack and start crying when he stepped back and managed a wan grin at James—_think of him that way, not as your father, it'll help._

"That's better!" James grinned at him, and ruffled his hair. He really did look almost exactly like the memory in Snape's Pensieve, Harry thought, staring at him. The gray was the only touch of age. "Now, what do you say you come with me? Headmaster Hagrid told me you don't have any classes right after lunch, and I have something important to talk to you about." He grinned a moment longer, then blinked. "What happened to you, Prankster? Did you fall down the stairs?"

"Something like that," Harry muttered, trying to make his voice as sheepish as possible. "I, uh, let out that insect in Professor Flitwick's class yesterday." He prayed desperately that the insect was something James had given the other Harry.

It seemed James had. He roared with laughter and started tugging Harry along towards the front doors, chuckling and speaking at the same time, which Harry had thought was impossible. "Did it work? Did it grow as much as it was supposed to? Did it fall to the floor when you were done with it? Tell me all about it!"

Harry tried to give the kind of cheery responses that he hoped the other Harry would give, and kept his head bowed whenever he could get away with it. Who knew what would happen if James saw his scar? But James seemed more inclined to listen to the sound of his own voice, and by the time he'd hauled Harry out to the Quidditch Pitch, he was already full of advice on what they should do next time to stop the insect from attacking them.

"…and add a few more powdered salamander scales to the mix next time," James finished, with an enthusiastic clap of his hands. It was the first time he'd let go of Harry's arm since grabbing him in the hall, and Harry rubbed it unobtrusively. Then James spun around again, and Harry almost jumped. His face had gone grim in seconds. "I have something very important to talk to you about, Prankster."

"That's what you said, sir," said Harry, before he could stop himself. James didn't look far from Snape when he had that kind of expression on. 

James chuckled for a moment, and then the gray mood returned. "Too much time around your mother," he said. "She tries to make you mind your manners all the time, doesn't she?"

Harry nodded, remembering the way Lily had ordered the other Harry around.

"Well, Harry, that's what I actually wanted to talk to you about," said James, his face shutting down even further. He turned away and kicked at something on the ground, sending it flying. Harry waited as patiently as he could, all the time wishing the other Harry was out here instead. Then James turned sharply back around. "The thing is, ever since I divorced your mother—"

__

What? Harry screamed inwardly, but just bowed his head.

"—I've been thinking that I don't really want to stay in Britain anymore. Get out in other parts of the world, learn some things I should have learned when I was in school, you know?" He sighed. "I'm moving to France, son. I thought you should be the first to know."

Harry swallowed slowly. He had no idea what the other Harry would have said, so he had to pretend. He just lifted his head and fixed his eyes on James's instead. "Oh," he said quietly.

James was talking on; if he noticed Harry's reaction at all, he probably mistook it for shock. "And that means that I wouldn't see you as much." He stared moodily off into the distance. "Not that Lily lets me see you much now."

"I know," said Harry, still mumbling.

"So." James took a deep breath and turned around again. "I didn't think he would agree to it, but Headmaster Hagrid's an old friend of mine. And he knows, just like old Professor Dumbledore did, that sometimes you have to do what your heart knows is right, and not what the world thinks is. And you're sixteen now, and old enough to make your own decisions." He looked Harry straight in the eye, and Harry barely resisted the temptation to make sure his scar was covered. "Son, do you want to come to France with me?"


	8. Ducking, Dodging, Darting

A/N: Sorry it's been so long! The wonders of having no Internet connection…

Thank you so much for all the reviews! Once again, a bunch of very good questions that I can't really answer, except to say that the Dumbledore of this world definitely is dead. (We may or may not find out exactly how). All the others are pretty relevant to the plot.

Which seems intent on twisting more here. I didn't anticipate the majority of the scenes in this chapter, so let me know if you think it works or doesn't work.

****

The Best of All Possible Worlds

Chapter Eight: Ducking, Dodging, Darting

Harry swallowed, and thought about running. Or could he pretend to have suddenly gone deaf?

No, he realized, as James's eyes focused on him expectantly. _He knows I understood what he said. I must have flinched._

"Prankster?" James's voice was quietly coaxing, and he reached out and laid a hand on Harry's shoulder. It felt unnaturally heavy, Harry thought, ignoring the more likely explanation: that he just wasn't used to gestures like that. "I understand it's a heavy burden to drop on you all at once, but you're my son. I have faith that you'll make the right decision."

Harry swallowed and said the one thing he thought might get him out of this. "It's an awful lot to think about, Dad. Can I let you know in a few days?"

James paused, and stared severely at him. "Is something wrong, Prankster? You're not normally this quiet."

Of course. Why would that prat act anything at all like I do? Harry complained to himself, but managed to flash a smile. "Of course, Dad. Fine. I just didn't expect to hear this, you know? I really need some time to think."

James sighed and closed his eyes. "I didn't want to press you," he muttered, "so I didn't say anything. But your mother doesn't know about this, son. I don't intend to tell her until I'm in France."

"But that means—" Harry began in confusion.

"Yes." James opened his eyes again and gave Harry that same intense look. "I need you to make your mind up right now. If you agree to come with me, then we'll leave from Hogwarts."

Harry swallowed as best he could with a suddenly dry mouth. "And Mum?" he croaked.

This time, the change in Harry's voice didn't seem to bother James. He grinned, a little. "You'll tell her from France. Or we'll send Padfoot to explain. He's always had more indulgence from your mother than I did." A sound of old complaints entered his voice. "She never let me teach you half the things I wanted to teach you, you know. You'd have known a lot more pranks and spells by the time you got to Hogwarts if she'd just let me educate you the way I wanted."

Harry did his best impression of panicking, almost glad that it wasn't an impression. "But where would I go to school, Dad? And what about Ron and Hermione?"

James smiled softly at him. "Beauxbatons is a great school, Prankster. And it won't be long before you're able to Apparate. Then you can visit Ron and Hermione all you want."

It appeared that James had an answer for everything. Harry opened his mouth, still not sure what answer _he_ was going to give.

"Dad! Hey, Dad!"

Harry glanced over James's shoulder, and sighed. Yes. Of course. It would happen this way.

James turned around, probably more out of habit than anything else. He did freeze for a moment when he spotted Ron and Hermione and the other Harry running towards them, and then turned back to Harry.

"Who are you?" he whispered.

"Someone who doesn't have the right to make decisions for your son," said Harry, enormously relieved. He would probably get in trouble if he told James that he was from another world, but at least he wouldn't be stuck making a choice that this world's Harry should really have to make. "So tell _him_ that you're moving to France. I think it'll go over better than it did with me." He was already backing away. James didn't seem inclined to stop staring at him, and Harry could almost predict what would come next. "Now, I have to go—"

James was already pulling his wand, though. "This is some joke, isn't it?" he hissed. "Or you're a Duplicis."

He didn't even wait for Harry's answer, which Harry considered unfair, just pointed his wand and yelled, "_Stupefy!_"

Harry ducked the curse, and then scrambled around James and towards the school. That was towards Hermione, Ron, and the other Harry, but he thought he could dodge past them. He had to be more used to running away from curses than any of them were.

He heard an odd drumming sound from behind him, and looked over his shoulder, wondering what kind of strange hex James had chosen to pursue him. His mind changed dramatically when he saw no hex flying towards him, but a maddened, dark stag with antlers lowered.

Harry yelped and dodged behind the other Harry, who immediately grabbed him. "I got him, Dad!" he yelled. "I got him!"

Harry didn't appreciate being got. He grabbed the other Harry instead, and then felt his hand brush against something familiar. He pulled the other Harry's wand out of his pocket just as Ron yelled, "_Tarantallegra_!"

The hex hit both of them, which at least made it easier for Harry to break away from the other one's incompetent hold on him. He swerved shakily around the other Harry, who was bawling at Ron to make it stop, and waved the wand uncertainly. It shot sparks, but didn't do anything more dramatic. It seemed inclined to accept him, which, Harry thought, only made sense.

Prongs was coming at him once more, all his momentum given to the charge. It wasn't hard for Harry to fire off a full-body bind that hit the stag and dropped him in his tracks, at least once he canceled the hex that Ron put on him.

"How can he use Harry's wand?" Ron was shouting. "He shouldn't be able to do that!"

"He certainly shouldn't," Hermione was saying, in a voice that held more scholarly interest. "I don't think the Duplicis Theory accounts for that—I'll have to check the books—"

"Dad!" the other Harry was yelling. He was still dancing, but he had a look of rage on his face, and Harry swallowed. It wasn't the best idea to anger a Gryffindor.

He did what he had to, swishing the wand and yelling, "_Accio wand!_"

His own wand flew out of Ron's pocket; Ron made a grab for it, but it was too late. Harry grabbed it from the air and tossed the other Harry the one he held, a moment before he asked himself what the hell he was doing. Hermione was already counteracting the body-bind on Prongs, and soon Harry would have four enemies after him, all angry and trained wizards.

He whirled around and ran.

He could hear hooves pounding the ground again, and listened hard until they got closer, then darted to the side. Prongs plunged past him, whirling around with a thick snort, and a black dog joined him a moment later, bounding out from behind one of the greenhouses.

"What is going on?" asked Sirius, as he changed back.

"He's going on!" the other Harry said, and Harry glanced over his shoulder to see the three of them coming fast, now all wearing looks of rage. "He hurt Dad, and he's been hanging around here and—and looking like me!"

"Was he?" asked Sirius, narrowing his eyes. "We'll see about that." He changed abruptly back into a dog and began inching forward, his hair standing on end and a growl rumbling from his throat. Harry backed away, looking between the stag, the dog, and the three younger wizards, and wishing he had his Firebolt.

"_Impedimenta Omnes!_" shouted a new voice, sounding like a hiss of irritation even when raised. Harry started to turn his head towards the sound, and then froze. He could vaguely see Ron, Hermione, and the other Harry doing the same thing out of the corner of his eye. The spell seemed to take a bit longer to hit Padfoot and Prongs, but abruptly stalled the dog in mid-bound and the stag in mid-stamp. Harry winced as Sirius fell heavily over on his side, but preferred it to being attacked.

Besides, he told himself, _this isn't really my Sirius. He was ready to attack me when he discovered I was hurting his godson._

It didn't help that much. His Sirius would have done the same thing for him, after all.

"_What_ in the name of Merlin is going on here?" Snape snarled, striding into the middle of the gathering and looking from face to face. Of course, none of them could answer him, but Snape didn't really seem to expect a response. "An experiment of mine escapes from my lab, and all of you are ready to destroy it? A fine waste of work that would have been!" By now he was shouting, his dark eyes flashing, more upset than Harry had ever seen him except in the Pensieve memory. "First these idiot children try to do so last night, and now _you_ are trying, Potter? Can you not stand to see advances in Potions happen, then?"

With a growl, he turned and released Harry from the spell. Harry stretched cautiously and scratched his neck; the spell had caught him in an awkward position. Snape seized his sleeve and dragged him to the side.

"Not a word," he said. Feeling that he would probably push his luck if he tried anything now, Harry nodded, and stepped back as Snape snapped around to face the others again. At least, Harry consoled himself, venturing outside Snape's office wasn't a complete waste. He did have his wand back again.

Snape muttered the counter-curse, and Ron and Hermione gasped as they relaxed. The other Harry promptly tried to glare at Harry. Padfoot and Prongs transformed before they did anything else, and then Sirius scrambled up from the ground, scraping dirt off his robes and practically spoiling for a fight.

"What the hell was that for, Snivellus?" he said. "I was attacking that creature of yours because it was threatening my godson. Of course, I should have figured it would be your work. Can't stand to be outdone by the next generation of Potters, can you?"

"If you had a larger brain than one of the fleas that bite you, Black, you would have seen that this creature, as you call it, was not threatening your precious godson," said Snape, biting off the words. "It escaped from my lab. It is young, and does not know much of the world around it. Of course it would run when it met a threat. It was trying to get away when it saw you. How does that equate with turning around and pointing a wand at young Mr. Potter?" His voice was back to normal level now, but still dangerously cold.

"I know about the Duplicis Theory," said James, who had taken the moment to recover his calm. Harry still shuddered when he saw the dark expression on his father's face, though. It appeared as though he were barely restraining the urge to hex Snape. "The creatures that come out of the mirrors are evil. Even if it wasn't hurting my son right now, it would have done so."

"It would _not_," said Snape. "This is the unexpected result of a new potion that I tested on a frog. Why it turned out to look like young Mr. Potter, I have no idea. That is one of the things I am researching. You may have set back my research incomparably by snatching it out of the halls and yelling at it and chasing it." He paused, then struck like a snake swallowing a rat. "Speaking of which, Potter, why were you here to yell at and chase my experiment anyway? I was under the impression that you were strictly forbidden contact with your son unless Professor Evans was nearby."

Harry just barely kept from gaping. _Will I ever learn how many mysteries there are in this place?_

James flushed, but lifted his chin. "That's for him to decide," he said stoutly. "Harry's sixteen now." He turned to face the other Harry, who was starting to look dazed. "Prankster, I'm moving to France. Do you want to come with me?"

"Just like that?" the other Harry asked. Harry started to feel sorry for him, given his blinking and staring.

"Yes," said James firmly. "We have to leave now. We've been cleared for Apparition at several points along the way, and we don't want to miss the times—"

"You have to leave now because you are afraid your wife will find out and prevent you from stealing the boy," said Snape. Improbably, he sounded amused. Harry shuddered. Given how nasty that amusement was, he hoped he never found out what had made Snape smile yesterday. "So you come in secret, in the middle of the day, intending to drag him out on the Pitch. You even bring Black with you, as if this were one of your pranks. Tell me, Potter, were you going to kidnap the boy if he refused?"

James shot Snape a look of unadulterated hatred. It was Sirius who spoke, though. "Shut up, Snivellus!"

"I am only too happy I came outside," said Snape calmly. "It appears as though rescuing my experiment from your bullying was not the only good deed I shall perform today." He had a smile in his voice, or something like one, as he glanced at the other Harry. "Go inside immediately, Mr. Potter, and to the Headmaster. He will want to see you." The other Harry nodded in that same dazed fashion and trotted towards the school. "Mr. Weasley, Miss Granger, fifty points from Gryffindor and detention for a week."

"But—"

"You frightened a defenseless creature," said Snape. "That is quite enough." He turned back to Sirius and James. Harry heard him draw a deep breath of what sounded like rattling ice before he said, "As for you, I shall take the greatest pleasure in seeing how many Potions ingredients I can harvest from your bodies if you do not leave at once."

"It should be Harry's decision," said James defiantly. "Lily has never understood—"

"Exactly." Snape had lifted his wand and was pointing it between James's eyes now. "It should be young Mr. Potter's decision. That you would take him whether or not he made that choice says that you were not truly interested in seeing him make it. Leave now, Potter. I won't repeat myself."

Sirius laid his hand on James's arm. "Come on, Prongs," he said softly. "We'll try another plan. You know I didn't think this kidnapping idea was the best one."

James gave him a glance of frustration, and Snape a glare, before he at last turned his back and stalked away with some dignity. He Apparated with a crack in mid-step. Sirius hesitated a moment and looked back at Snape.

"You know this isn't over," he said.

"It never has been," said Snape, his voice cracking like ice again.

Sirius's eyes turned dangerous, but he vanished without another word. Snape turned towards Harry, then checked when he saw Ron and Hermione watching them. "Mr. Weasley, Miss Granger, why are you still here? You have done quite enough for today, I should think."

Ron opened his mouth, but Hermione claimed his arm. "Come on, Ron. I want to research the Duplicis Theory, anyway." She gave Snape a defiant look.

"Why, Miss Granger, there is no need," said Snape smoothly. "I told you, this is one of my experiments."

Hermione, looking as if she didn't believe that for a moment, said, "Of course, Professor," and dragged Ron away.

Snape drew in another deep breath, then whirled on Harry, who had expected something like this and tried to stand as firm as he could. "Idiot boy!" he hissed. "You could not remain in my rooms as I told you?"

"I had to get my wand back," said Harry, matching him glare for glare. This wasn't the Snape he had hated in his world, he reminded himself steadily. This was a Snape who had, in fact, saved the other Harry from being taken away against his will, and saved him from being gored or hexed to death. Harry couldn't feel as intimidated by him when that happened.

Snape closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them. "It will be just as well that you have it," he said. He was back to the cold, calm voice. "I have found a potion that I believe will take you home. It requires your full magical cooperation, however, and we should begin brewing it at once."

Harry straightened. "I'm ready, sir."

He followed Snape in without another word, too relieved to hear the news to even care about his Invisibility Cloak for the moment. He wanted to leave this world as soon as possible. He didn't belong here, and he didn't want to speak to the basilisk again, or somehow save Hogwarts from Lucius Malfoy.

More than anything else, though, the way that James had tried to trick him made him angry, and frightened, and sick to his stomach.

I don't want to know that this happened, even in another world, he thought. _I just want to go home and forget._

He was almost too deep in brooding to notice, but a small movement did catch his eye. Harry turned his head, and was sure that he saw, in the moment before it scuttled for shelter in a clump of grass, the tiny brown shape of a rat.

He swallowed back another lump of cold disgust. _Of course they could probably try again, if they have Wormtail with them._

That's it for now! With luck, the next chapter should be up on Friday.


	9. You!

A/N: As promised, a new chapter. With all luck, I should be able to keep a regular updating schedule from now on.

Good questions, again. This chapter should actually answer some of them.

****

The Best of All Possible Worlds

Chapter Nine: You!

"You should not have left my office," Snape said again when they were safely ensconced in the room once more. It seemed to be his second-favorite thing to say, next to "idiot boy," Harry thought, frustrated, and glaring at Snape's back. "There are too many around the school who know Mr. Potter, and would assuredly have tried to make you talk to them."

"I know, sir," said Harry. "I really don't want to stay here any longer. I only want to go home. You said that you had a potion that could help me?"

Snape turned and gave him a freezing look for a long moment, then turned away. "Yes," he said. "I will need your help to make it. I assume that you are not hopeless at making potions, as you no doubt have received advanced tutoring from my…counterpart?" He took a bottle of something dark purple from a shelf and moved towards the fireplace, casting a swift "_Incendio_" to start the fire.

"I…well…" Harry shuffled his feet, and hoped that Snape wouldn't look at him at the moment, since he could surely have told that Harry was lying about being a Slytherin. Luckily, Snape seemed involved in picking out the best possible cauldron. "I manage to pass the class, but I never do as well as Hermione."

Snape snorted and turned around. "Only Mr. Longbottom does nearly as well as Miss Granger," he said dismissively. "If you can follow instructions, and wave your wand when I tell you to, then you will be adequate. At least you will not play pranks while we are doing this, as Mr. Potter tends to do." He set the cauldron hovering over the fire with another wave of his wand, and dumped the purple liquid into it. There came a puff of colored smoke that had Harry holding his breath, but Snape simply reached for another bottle of ingredients, as if this were all normal.

"What is the other Harry like in class?" Harry asked, edging closer to the cauldron. If Snape was going to have him chop something up or use his wand to make the Potion, then he wanted to be ready. "I can't imagine playing pranks in your class, back home."

Snape actually gave him what was almost a smile. "That is because you are a Slytherin," he said. "My own students do not give me trouble in Potions."

Harry industriously focused on the potion.

"Mr. Potter is in Gryffindor," Snape went on, almost snarling as his hands expertly sorted various ingredients into the cauldron, "and he has a tendency to decide that every room is an appropriate stage for his cleverness. And with him he pulls Mr. Weasley, and half of Gryffindor." He gave Harry a waspish glance, as if forgetting for a moment that he wasn't actually the student he was complaining about. "He does not only look like James, but follows him in the most troublesome aspects of his personality."

"James was a prank-player, too?" Harry asked, even though he knew that much from the Pensieve scene. Again, though, that wasn't a circumstance he could explain to Snape.

"You must surely know," said Snape, frowning at him. "Unless the James Potter of your world managed to learn a trace of humility after his school days." His voice oozed doubt, thick as the viscous liquid dripping from the bottle he currently held over the cauldron.

"My parents died when I was a baby, Professor," said Harry tensely, after a moment of consideration. He didn't want to reveal this to Snape, but, on the other hand, it wasn't as though _this_ Snape could find a way to use the information against him. "I have no idea what they were like." _Not really, _he defended to himself. _I know that they weren't perfect shining stars, but they can't have been that bad either, or everyone would have hated them, not just Snape._

"How did they die?" Snape asked, scattering a handful of white dust in a precise circle.

"A wizard named Voldemort killed them."

The white dust filtered down in a trembling fall for a moment, and then Snape pulled his hand back and considered the potion with his head on one side. "It will need some time to cool," he said, stepping away. "We may begin the second stage of its preparation in a few hours." He put the bottle he had been using back on the shelf, then turned to look at Harry. "Are you willing to wait some days so that you may go home?"

"I meant what I said about obeying instructions, Professor," said Harry, meeting his gaze as evenly as he could. "As long as the end result is the one I want, I don't mind waiting."

Snape smiled slightly. "Good. A true Slytherin."

Once again, the temptation to comment was enormous, but Harry restrained himself.

The knock came while Harry was in the middle of chopping some unidentifiable kind of thick green root for the next stage of the potion.

Snape gave him a sharp glance. "It is no one dangerous, or my wards would have alerted me," he said. "Lower your head and keep chopping. So long as no one else knows about that disgraceful business of earlier—and that brat would not have shouted it from the towers—then we can excuse this as my keeping you for a detention." He crossed to the door and opened it.

Harry kept his eyes lowered, but his ears open. He would have been a fool not to, he justified to himself, and Snape probably wouldn't think it was very Slytherin of him, either.

"Severus," said a fluttery voice. "Oh, thank Merlin. I wanted to talk to you immediately. You know, ever since—"

"Sybil," said Snape, very coolly. "I would be more than pleased to discuss this with you, but I have a student serving detention at the moment, and I do not think the things you want to discuss appropriate for a student's ears."

Harry gagged for a moment. _Professor Snape and Professor Trelawney? Ick._

But then his mind went back to the strange warning his own Professor Trelawney had given him before he ventured out into the storm and the way to this world. Come to think of it, his own Snape had warned him, too. Something about death, which obviously hadn't happened, but Harry didn't think it was entirely unconnected. He couldn't afford to, since he had no other clue how he might have come here.

He raised his head from the roots and edged sideways, trying to see Professor Trelawney. He just made out the upper corner of her face, as she nodded rapidly in time to Professor Snape's words.

"Of course, Severus, of course," she said. "But I don't think that we should leave it much longer. Who knows what might have come through?"

Snape's voice got even tighter, colder, and softer. "Anything, Sybil. You were right before. You will be right again. You always are."

Harry snorted softly to himself. _Yeah, figures that this version of Hogwarts would get the competent Professor Trelawney._

"But this matter is sensitive, and, I do not think, appropriate to bring up in front of a student," said Snape, and turned around, as if to make sure that Harry was where he should be, chopping roots.

Harry wasn't. Harry was in the middle of the room, staring. Even as Snape's startled glance fell on him, Trelawney's went past Snape like an arrow. It fell on Harry's face, and Harry jumped slightly as he saw the way her eyes widened. He'd swept his fringe back out of his eyes when he looked up, so she could see his scar. He supposed it was right of her to be a little surprised.

None of that excused the way she started shrieking next.

"It's _you_! I knew something like this would happen when I saw the storm brewing last night! I would know that scar anywhere. I saw it in my visions!" She turned around, all but putting dents in Snape's arms as she clenched them. "It's _him_!" she wailed into his face.

Snape was still struggling to free himself from Trelawney when Harry took a long, deliberate step forward, remembering the way that Snape had jumped when confronted with his scar last night. Something was happening here, and he wanted to figure out what. There were already too many unanswered questions floating around in his head.

"What do you mean?" he demanded. "Who am I?"

"Shut up, idiot boy!" Snape hissed at him.

"The one I saw in my visions," Trelawney sobbed hysterically. "The one who was going to face and fight Voldemort—that terrible, terrible man, the one I ran to get away from. But nowhere was far enough or safe enough, was it? _Was it?_" she screamed, appealing to Snape again, as far as Harry could tell.

"What vision did you have of me?" Harry demanded.

"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies," said Trelawney, her voice abruptly as spooky as the one she'd had—no, that the other Trelawney had had—in Harry's vision of her in Dumbledore's office. She shuddered, as if she, too, found the voice frightening, and suddenly her eyes were clear again and her tone normal. "That one. I have never forgotten it."

Snape was hissing like an enraged basilisk now. Harry felt like doing the same thing. He turned towards Snape, feeling much as he had that last evening at home.

"Did you know about this?" he asked. "Did you know what world I came from, where I got the scar, what happened between me and Voldemort?"

"Of course not," said Snape. "It was Sybil's vision, Sybil's prophecy. She has mentioned it to me often enough that I have grown tired of it. The one vision of hers that ever went awry, she said. But why would I know more of it?" He watched Harry, his eyes wary and guarded.

"Of course he knew about it," said Sybil shrilly. "Why shouldn't he? He came through the storm with me, after all."

Harry jumped back and drew his wand. Snape's was already out, though, which gave him enough of an advantage to cast a calm "_Stupefy._" However, an armful of Professor Trelawney prevented it from hitting Harry straight on. He felt his left arm tingle and go numb, and thanked Merlin he held his wand in his right hand.

"No," said Harry, pointing his wand at both of them and ignoring the way Professor Trelawney screamed and flinched. "I want to know _exactly_ what is going on, and I want to know now."

Trelawney promptly started babbling. "We were both born in another world. But then I had that vision of Voldemort and his bane, and—other, darker things. I knew bad times were coming, that I couldn't stay there. So I went to Severus and told him the truth, since he was the only one who could brew the potion to move me between worlds. And then he told me that—"

"_Obliviate._"

Professor Trelawney stopped talking and stood with her mouth very slightly open. Snape pushed at her, and her arms dropped limply to her sides. Harry watched, his head still bursting with questions, but many more answers than before. He swallowed, once again feeling a little sick to his stomach.

"You will remember nothing of this conversation, you silly woman," said Snape evenly. "The storm was indeed set loose the other night, but no one came through. I reassured you of that, and I am sending you back to your rooms. Do you understand?"

"I do," Trelawney whispered.

"Very well. Good night, Sybil." Snape opened the door, and Professor Trelawney staggered through. He shut it behind her, and for a long moment, there was silence.

Then Snape turned around.

Harry was ready, though, and dodged the first hex that Snape cast at him, trying a quick "_Expelliarmus!_" of his own. Snape dodged that one, and laughed softly, in a way that made Harry far more afraid of him than if he had cursed.

"_Serpensortia_!"

The snake that came out of his wand looked less angry and more calculating than the one that had shot out of Draco's wand second year. It came slowly towards Harry, hissing its enjoyment to itself. "_Hungry, ssso hungry._"

"_Go away,_" Harry hissed at it, irritated that he was being forced to reveal his Parselmouth gift. He looked up to meet Snape's astonished eyes, then back at the snake. "_I don't have time to fool around with you._"

"_You could have been more polite about it,_" the snake whinged, turning and crawling into a corner of the lab.

Snape was still eyeing him speculatively, and Harry nearly got him with a full-body bind. He raised a shield in front of him that deflected that, though.

His next spell came as a surprise to Harry, who had thought it would be another Memory Charm, and he reacted slowly enough to let it hit him full on.

"_Imperio_!"

Harry felt a dreamy, floating feeling invade his mind, for about half a minute. Then he fought it off. For the first time, though, he didn't make his defiance known immediately. This could be useful, he thought, shocking himself with how coldly he reasoned, if Snape thought Harry was under his control and Harry really wasn't.

"You will not question me about my reasons for abandoning my own world," Snape demanded. "My reasons are my own."

"Yes, Professor," said Harry, doing his best to imitate the dull tone that he remembered from fourth-year DADA.

"And you will go and drink the potion that has been brewing in my cauldron for the last few hours."

Harry felt a churning panic seize him—who knew what an unfinished potion would do?—even as he replied dully, "Yes, Professor," and walked towards the cauldron.

What was he going to do now?

Well, whatever it is, I have about five steps to figure it out.


	10. Dancing Between Fires

A/N: This story is complete fun. Glad that other people seem to think so, too.

Nemo Returning_:_ You're right about the Parseltongue; that was a slight slip on my part. However, I can work it into the plot later, so I've decided that it's staying the same.

The title of this chapter comes from a line in _The Lions of Al-Rassan_ by Guy Gavriel Kay, one of my favorite fantasy books. At least Harry's dancing between fires that have already been introduced. No more completely out-of-the-blue plot twists, I think.

****

The Best of All Possible Worlds

Chapter Ten: Dancing Between Fires

First step.

Perhaps he could spin around and hex Snape? But the man was almost surely waiting for that.

Second step.

He could simply refuse to drink the potion, but that would reveal he was not under the Imperius curse, and leave him with no other recourse.

Third step.

He could drink the potion, and hope for the best. Snape seemed to want to get rid of him almost as badly as Harry wanted to get out of here. Perhaps the potion would simply transport him home.

But Snape had also tried to hex him and render him unable to ask any questions. Harry wasn't at all sure that he would start being nice now.

Fourth step.

Well, then he would just have to go back to what he had been doing.

Harry took a deep breath and turned around. Snape blinked at him, for a moment wearing another expression that Harry had never seen on the face of his world's counterpart.

"What are you doing?" Snape asked. Harry wondered if he had realized the truth yet, or if he had only kept his wand at his side because Harry hadn't raised his own.

"I have something to tell you," said Harry, keeping his voice low and even and his hand limp, nearly relaxed, around his wand. He didn't think he would be able to raise it in time anyway. He fixed his eyes on Snape's, then lowered them to the floor submissively. This was easier than facing Voldemort in the graveyard, his personal standard for difficulty, so he went on when Snape said nothing. "I can resist the Imperius curse—"

He saw Snape's rising wand, and shouted, "Just the same way I can speak Parseltongue. I'm powerful, a Slytherin, but I'm _not_ dangerous to you!"

Snape's wand remained leveled at him, but no matter how long Harry counted his breaths, he didn't send a hex flying. Harry swallowed, and at last looked up at Snape's face, unable to resist the temptation any longer.

The dark eyes were narrowed, but no more than that. Something like dawning respect was written in Snape's features, in fact, even as he motioned Harry away from the cauldron with his wand. Harry moved obediently, darting glances between the floor and Snape. He sat down in one of the chairs when Snape gestured him to it. There was a long silence, broken only by an especially loud bubble from the cauldron. Harry jumped, then hoped that Snape hadn't seen that.

"It is a pity that you were not born in my own world," said Snape at last. "You would be a fit replacement for the young Potter here. You are more intelligent and more strong-willed, things any Slytherin needs." Harry thought that, if half of what Professor Trelawney had said was true, he had indeed been born in Snape's own world, but he thought it better to keep that to himself as Snape continued thoughtfully, "And a Slytherin Potter could be of use to me."

He strode to the cauldron and snatched another potion from a shelf, holding it over the boiling liquid. "Do you know what this is, Mr. Potter?" he asked.

"No, sir," said Harry, wondering if he should be nervous or not. _How do I know that anything he says is going to be the truth?_

"This will neutralize the potion," said Snape casually. "And then, I believe, you will be stuck here, with no way back."

Harry swallowed again, and hoped that Snape couldn't hear, or would be tempted to excuse that nervousness, even from a Slytherin. Snape was right. He didn't know half the ingredients that had gone into the potion, thanks to being distracted with Snape's words at the time. And even if he made it to its proper consistency again, he didn't know what to do with it then.

"I want only one thing from you, Mr. Potter," said Snape. "I will brew the potion to take you home."

"You will?" Harry asked hopefully, unable to prevent the words. Snape gave him a harsh glance, but nodded.

"The one thing I want from you," he said, his voice deepening, "is your promise not to ask me any questions, about the world you think I come from or my background."

Harry drew in his breath, then let it out. He could do this. He could. He desperately wanted to go home. That was more important than finding out what this Snape had done, if he had done anything. Besides, if Professor Trelawney was right and he had brewed a potion that let them come to this world, then they had come here more than sixteen years ago, just after she made the prophecy. Surely it wasn't Harry's task to right wrongs that had occurred even before his birth?

Of course it is, he thought, and then snorted. _But those problems are all at home. I can deal with them there. What's unfair is to ask me to take any more up._

He met Snape's eyes, and nodded.

"You will swear on your word as a Slytherin not to ask me any questions about my past?" Snape pressed.

"On my word as a Slytherin," said Harry, entertaining a brief mental picture of the way that Ron would look if he ever heard Harry speak those words. _I can't wait to get back home and say them to him._

"And you will remain here in my office and speak to no one who might come to the door?" Snape asked.

"That's two things," Harry pointed out.

Snape narrowed his eyes. "I am not accustomed to such disrespect from my own House."

"You would have thought me a fool if I had automatically said yes," said Harry, striving for a cool and reasonable tone. It was hard to reach when he had been shooting hexes just five minutes ago, and he had to compare it to dueling Voldemort again just to keep from breaking out into hysterical giggles. "I will not agree to two bargains unless you agree to do two things for me."

"What else do you want, besides the potion?" Snape asked levelly.

"Nothing," Harry shot back. It was not strictly true. He wanted his Invisibility Cloak back. But he was not going to tell Snape about the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets. He would probably figure out what it was, and then he would probably tell Lucius Malfoy, who was looking for a good way to kill Muggle-borns. Harry didn't want to stop all the trouble in this world—he didn't even think he was capable of it—but he wanted to avoid adding to it.

Snape eyed him for a moment, then snarled. "Very well, idiot boy. If you insist on endangering yourself, then that is your problem. But do remember that being detained, either as young Mr. Potter or as an interesting magical phenomenon, would somewhat impede your chances of ever getting home." He swept out the door in a dramatic swirl of dark robes then, casually tossing the bottle he had been holding back onto the proper shelf.

Harry sank down on the mattress, which hadn't been transfigured back into a chair, and thought for a moment. He could lie awake and stew and worry for a while about Snape and James and whether he would ever see anyone from his own world again.

Or he could sleep.

That was the best idea, he had decided. Despite it only being early evening, he'd had enough excitement to last him a day. And it would be just like Snape to invent a world-crossing potion that could only be brewed by someone exceptionally alert working from midnight to dawn.

He closed his eyes.

-------------

"Excellent, my dear Nagini. You have done beautifully." For a moment, a hand like a great pale spider stroked the head of an immense snake, who curled up and flickered her tongue at the praise. "Every inch of Hogwarts ground covered, and no sign of the boy. And Albus quietly frantic, you say?"

The snake hissed, but Harry could understand the words well enough. "Yesss, Massster. I saw it when I hid in hisss roomsss. He hasss sssent ssseveral of the teachersss on misssionsss. And he pacesss when he isss by himssself. He did not plan the boy'sss disssappearance."

"What teachers has he sent, and where?"

"McGonagall to the boy'sss neighborhood. The half-giant to the north. Sssnape to Diagon Alley and other sssectionsss of wizarding London."

"I thought he might," said Voldemort, and the high, cold laughter blew about the room. The vision seemed to pull back, and this time Harry could see that they were in a dark, chill chamber, the window the only light. "Ah, dear Severus. I believe that we shall have a special celebration for him when we are done with the school. Herd Wormtail to me, Nagini. I have yet another scouting mission for him to perform."

"But Massster—"

"Indeed, my love, you have done well. But I must make absolutely sure the old fool does not have the boy in hiding somewhere. And there is no one in my service who knows the school so well as the little rat."

--------

This time, Harry managed to wake without screaming, but he still must have looked bad; Snape gave him a second sharp glance as he set the tray on the floor beside the mattress.

"You are trembling," he sneered. "Slytherins do not tremble. What are these nightmares about?"

Harry stared at him, not thinking he would enjoy hearing that his counterpart back home was in trouble.

Snape made a sour face and stepped away. "I must show up for breakfast in the Great Hall," he said. "My absence yesterday was remarked. Once again, I would advise you to stay in the office, Mr. Potter. Too many things could go wrong if—certain—people should spot you out and about."

"Is Lucius Malfoy still here?" asked Harry, eating some of the porridge and grimacing. It was cold, as if the house elves hadn't had time to make it properly. He would bet that was all Snape's fault. An irritated Potions master was enough to put any house elf off making a perfect bowl. Or maybe Snape had told them he liked it this way.

"It does not matter," said Snape, "because you will not be seeking him out. Do I make myself clear?"

Harry nodded, and held still as Snape left the room, wondering idly why the man didn't just lock or ward his office. Perhaps there were other people who would notice if he did. He did seem dedicated to keeping Harry as unobtrusive as possible.

Harry finished his breakfast, watched the potion simmer, and looked at the shelves. Once again, he was bored, though this time it had taken only a few minutes and not a few hours.

He forced his way to his feet—his legs were stiff still—and grimaced when his own stink washed over him. He longed for a shower, but he doubted he would get one. He was going to go straight down to the Chamber and retrieve his Invisibility Cloak. No stopping even to talk to the basilisk, which Harry rather regretted. It was better company than Snape, at least, and the only one here who absolutely would not care if he told it he was from another world.

He opened the door and stepped out into a raised wand.

"You're not going anywhere," said Pansy Parkinson calmly, "without helping me."

Harry swallowed again. Damn it, he didn't _need_ this, he thought wearily to whatever power controlled his destiny. He flashed a smile and looked down, so that she couldn't read his mind. "What do you need help with, exactly? And what makes you think that I could help?"

"I was listening at Professor Snape's door last night, after that stupid Trelawney woman left," said Pansy. "I know that you can speak Parseltongue and throw off the Imperius curse. And I heard the deal that you made with him. I think I know exactly how I could disrupt that potion, perhaps without him even noticing."

Harry stared at her, then snapped his eyes back to the floor again when he felt the pressure against his mind. In reality, probably just the information that he came from another world was enough to blackmail him.

Of course, that doesn't tell me why she needs someone who can speak Parseltongue and throw off the Imperius curse.

"All right. What do you want?" Once again Harry tried to maintain the cool tone, but this time it was a lot harder. Snape wanted one specific thing. Harry had no idea what Pansy wanted, but he already had the premonition that he would wind up regretting it.

"A solution to a problem that a few of my friends and I have," said Pansy crisply. "The Malfoys favor Imperius, and so far I'm the only one that can throw it off, which does rather limit our choices."

"I'm supposed to go back to my own world in a few days," Harry protested softly.

"I know," Pansy said, smirking at him before she turned away and started walking down the hall. "So that should give you extra incentive to solve this problem."

"What—"

"Nothing more until we're in a safer place."

Harry trailed after her, grumbling under his breath. Pansy seemed disposed to ignore the grumbles, and actually chatted as she led him deeper into the dungeons, mostly speculating about how different they must look in Harry's own world. Harry got tired of it, enough that he eventually said, "You're completely different in my own world, you know."

"I am?" Pansy glanced back at him.

Harry met her eyes and deliberately summoned the memory of his world's Pansy hanging off Draco Malfoy's arm at the Yule Ball. The face of the Pansy in front of him immediately balled up in disgust, and she made a spitting noise, rather like a cat who had just stepped in water.

"She must be—I can't even imagine how weak—" She stopped, looking nauseated, then went on. "If Draco even _proposed_ that I go to a ball with him, you'd be able to hear the slap from the Great Hall."

"Why?"

Pansy just shook her head. "That's something I'll explain in a minute. We're here," she announced, turning to tap a section of wall with her wand and mutter something that Harry couldn't make out.

The stones swung back without a sound, and Harry stepped into a room, chill and dark of course, and lit only by torches that flickered with green light. There were several chairs pulled into a semi-circle, and a number of students dressed in Slytherin robes sat in them. Harry didn't see anyone he recognized. Since they all looked younger than Pansy, he thought they were probably from other years.

They all glared at him. Harry glared uneasily back at them.

"What's Potter doing here?" one of them asked, looking at Pansy as she stepped in behind Harry and murmured something that probably shut the wall. Harry turned to her, wanting an explanation, too.

He stared. He had never even imagined, from the brief glimpses he'd had of Pansy in this world and the rather more extended looks from his own, that she could look like this. Her eyes were diamond-hard, and the expression on her face could possibly have made Voldemort pay attention to her, though not actually shut up.

"He's here because he can help us," said Pansy, and the muttering shut off as if she'd cast a silencing spell. She glanced at Harry. "I can speak absolutely freely here. This room has silencing and locking charms as old as the stones on it."

Harry nodded, though he wasn't happy about the thought of more people sharing his secret. They might keep it, though, as long as he didn't somehow show them an advantage that would come by betraying it.

"We're under threat by maniacs," said Pansy bluntly. "More specifically, Slytherin House and all the sane Slytherins in it are under threat. And it's the Malfoys who are behind it."

Harry glanced around at the others, and saw not a disagreeing glance. They all looked grim, instead.

"The rest of us have accepted that pureblooded wizards aren't the only kind in the world anymore," Pansy went on. "Just the best." There came smug expressions and nods from the other Slytherins. Harry hoped that he didn't look the way he felt, which was boiling furious. Even though Pansy didn't seem to think the same way Draco Malfoy did, here, it was all too easy to imagine her sneering at Hermione in the same way. He had to force himself to calm down and listen to the rest of the speech.

"We're never going to get rid of all the mudbloods and half-bloods. The best we can do is make sure that _our_ position in the wizarding world is secure. We still have the best knowledge of magic, the most money, the most social prestige, and connections to the Ministry and other wizarding communities in the world that the mudbloods aren't going to rival for a hundred generations. Make sure that we're safe, intermarry with the social inferiors most likely to be awed, and we can look forward to a future that stays basically the same. A little smaller, maybe, but the same."

Harry turned to face Pansy fully. Her face was alight, transformed from hardness to exultation by what she was saying. He asked, "And the Malfoys stand against all that?"

Pansy's face went promptly back to hardness again. "Yes," she said flatly. "They think they can destroy all the mudbloods. And they're not being subtle about their prejudices, either. Draco still insults mudbloods like Granger _to their faces._" Her voice held that odd combination of horror and disgust that Harry had heard from Aunt Petunia when one of the neighbors did something scandalous with her garden. "They're trying to rally the other purebloods to their side. They're also tainting Slytherin House in the eyes of the press and the rest of the wizarding world. Talking about how 'the spirit of Salazar is with them' and all that rot."

"Malfoy's claiming to be a descendant of Slytherin, now," one of the younger students remarked.

Pansy snorted. "And I know that Lucius is planning something in the school itself, but not what," she went on. "Unfortunately, he insists that everyone who comes to look at the thing be spelled with Imperius, or else that they swear to a magical oath to stay silent about what they've seen. So that doesn't help us. Draco knows I can throw off Imperius, and he only trusts me with little hints and tidbits now, trying to lure me to his side." She tossed her hair. "I think he's a little bit in love with me, if you want the truth."

Harry hesitated for a long moment. Then he said, "I think Lucius Malfoy is planning to let loose the Star of Morning in the school."

He was aware of immediate silence, and all eyes focused on him. But he knew the only one whose reaction really mattered was Pansy, so he looked at her instead.

Pansy watched him, motionless as a serpent waiting to strike, and then gave a very small smile. "Well now," she said, "isn't that interesting."

And Harry knew, from the look in her eyes, that if he had thought he could tell her that and let the Slytherins take it from there, the chance was gone now.

It looks like I just signed up to be the savior of the bloody world, he thought, and sighed. _Again._


	11. The Order of the Serpent

A/N: Sorry this took so long. But I'm pleased with this chapter; it introduces at least one minor plot thread that should be useful.

Thank you for all the reviews! To answer a few of the specific questions:

Lily and James Potter:I'm flattered that you like the last line. You can use it, if you want.

Olivia Wood: Explaining the confusion of worlds, and how Harry got here in the first place, is in the cards; the next chapter will start getting some of it in motion.

gallandro-83: There is very definitely no Voldemort in this world; the dreams are from Harry's own. Pansy doesn't know about the Snape/Trelawney conversation because she only started listening at the door after Trelawney left. And Harry thought the Slytherins would be satisfied if they knew about the Star of Morning and just let him go.

That's not the case.

****

The Best of All Possible Worlds

Chapter Eleven: The Order of the Serpent

"You should know that we call ourselves—" Pansy began.

One of the younger Slytherin students interrupted her. "You're not going to tell _him_, are you?" he asked.

Pansy glared at him. "Yes, as a matter of fact, I _am_, Lestrange," she said. "Do you have a problem with that?"

The young man subsided, shaking his head. Harry hoped that the boy's cowering covered his own shocked reaction. _Lestrange? Bellatrix's son? _The idea made him feel ill.

"Good." Pansy turned back towards Harry, and frowned. "What is it, Potter?"

Harry just shrugged. He doubted that she would be able to understand unless he showed her his memories, and he didn't want to do that, at the moment. From the slight deepening of Pansy's frown, he thought she didn't believe him, but she only said, "We call ourselves the Order of the Serpent. We fight for Slytherin honor. And now that you've told us about the Star of Morning, we have a definite target. I'm going to make you the Eagle, since you're the only one who's seen it as of yet, and I'll be the Adder—"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Harry interrupted bluntly. They were in this together now, he had decided. If any of them talked, the rest would be in trouble fast enough to make their heads spin. And probably none of the Slytherins thought they would get a cordial reception from Hagrid, either.

Pansy stared hard at him again, then turned to the others. "Since we know what our target is now, then we won't need to do that research in the library that I was telling you about," she announced with false cheeriness. "I'll work with our guest, instead, and go over all the duties of being Eagle."

"It sounds as though you'll have to inform him of them, instead," said Lestrange, with another contemptuous glance at Harry. Harry tried to keep himself from looking back with hatred. _His mother didn't kill Sirius, and it wasn't his fault, _he kept trying to tell himself. But he had been forcibly reminded of his grief for the first time since his first moments here, and it was difficult.

"Detention with Filch for the rest of the week, Lestrange," said Pansy in an almost bored voice, and pulled her wand.

The others left quietly enough after that, all giving Harry dubious glances. He tried to meet them with glares. He had barely matched the last one when Pansy muttered something else and then shoved him against the wall, her wand to his throat.

"Don't do anything like that again, Potter," she said. "They need to trust you, and trust doesn't come easily to us. You should have nodded along with me, and trusted me to explain in private later."

Harry's temper rose again. "Get off me," he said.

Pansy eyed him, then, with a suddenness that surprised Harry, stepped away and lowered her wand again. "You're right," she said. "We need each other, and so I shouldn't anger you." She smiled, though the expression had little of humor in it. "I could invade your mind and find your most painful memory, and you could call snakes out of the walls and kill me."

Harry hadn't even thought about trying to kill someone with Parseltongue, but since his most unpleasant memory was near the surface at the moment, he managed a false smile and lowered his eyes. "What is the Eagle you're talking about, and what's the Adder?" he asked.

Pansy took a seat on one of the abandoned chairs, and motioned him to the one next to her. It had been the one Lestrange was sitting in. Harry had to force himself to take it, and even then Pansy raised an eyebrow at his twitchiness. Harry shrugged. "There is no Star of Morning in my world, as far as I know," he said, hoping to divert her.

It worked. Or maybe Pansy allowed herself to be diverted. That was the frustrating part, Harry thought. One never knew, with Slytherins. "The Star of Morning used to belong to the Founders," she said. "We think it was one of the ways that Salazar Slytherin determined what students should belong to his House. It can identify purebloods and mudbloods."

Harry, determined not to react to the word, said, "I thought the Sorting Hat did that."

"We don't think the Sorting Hat was an immediate invention," said Pansy, with a slight shrug. "The Star of Morning was used first. But apparently it could be misused."

"Mr. Malfoy said that it could destroy all the Muggleborns, if the right team of experienced wizards used it," said Harry.

Pansy nodded. "And it has to be countered by a team, too. Four, one for each of the four Founders." She was speaking in a more relaxed manner now, and it struck Harry that she sounded a lot like a professor. Maybe she was used to explaining things like this to the Order, he thought. "Or one for each of the Houses, maybe, since each has a place for one of the House's animals. There's the Adder, the one who actually strikes at the Star. There's the Badger, who has to dig into enough magical strength to keep the whole process going. The Lion—" Pansy grimaced as she named the symbol of Gryffindor "—defends the others, in case of any attack from outside. And the Eagle stands in the center and visualizes the Star of Morning, guiding the Adder to the target. Since you're the only one who's actually seen it, you'll have to be the Eagle."

Harry frowned. "How do you know how to counter it so well?" he asked. "Isn't information like that kept secret?"

Pansy gave him a look of unmitigated scorn. "Most of the Slytherins have read through the Restricted Section by the middle of fourth year," she said coolly. "I read through it by my third. Isn't it the same in your school?"

Harry tried to keep out of his mind how much he despised Slytherins in his own world. He had another question, one that he would have to ask no matter how suspicious it sounded. "Lestrange. Is his mother Bellatrix Lestrange?"

Pansy blinked. "Yes. You know her in your own world?"

Harry hesitated, then decided he could trust her with this much. "She's crazy in my world," he said bluntly. "And she didn't seem like the kind of person whose children would join something like the Order of the- of the Serpent." He'd almost slipped and said "Phoenix."

Pansy laughed. "Oh, Bastian's the rebel. His mother is so completely obsessed with restoring purebloods that the only way he could go further is to consort with mudbloods. And Bastian wouldn't do that."

"Or betray us to his mother, either?"

Pansy shrugged. "All members of the Order know what will happen if they do that." She stood up. "Speaking of which, you should be sworn in."

Harry tensed, and tried to keep hold of his wand without making it look as though he were preparing all the hexes he knew in his mind. "What?"

Pansy looked back at him. "It's something we do to make sure that no one will betray us," she said calmly. "Slytherin honor and all that." She walked over to the wall, ignoring Harry's fidgeting, and traced a curving S on the stones. There came a soft rumbling sound, and they flicked back with an oddly sinuous movement, so that a serpent's head could poke out of them.

Harry eyed the long stone fangs, and didn't move.

"Oh, come on, Potter," said Pansy, who was looking amused again. "It's nothing, really. Any true Slytherin only has to place his hand in the serpent's mouth and swear never to betray the Order. You'll get through without trouble."

Harry stood and approached the wall as casually as he could, hoping he hadn't started to sweat. "I was worried about my bloodline," he lied. "My mother _is_ Muggleborn, after all."

"But you're in Slytherin," said Pansy, inarguably. "The snake measures spirit, not bloodline."

Bloody hell, Harry thought in dismay. That was worse, in some ways.

But—

Then he mentally smacked himself for being an idiot, and walked determinedly to the wall. This was a snake, after all, and he was a Parselmouth.

"Put your hand in between the fangs," Pansy directed. "No, left hand. Curl your fingers around the right fang and say, 'I will stay part of the Order of the Serpent, betray none of its secrets, and fight for Slytherin honor.' That's all."

Harry hissed softly, looking directly at the snake so he wouldn't accidentally speak in English. The last thing he needed was to screw this up. "_Greetings, my friend._"

The snake stirred, and turned its head towards him, tugging its body further out of the wall. Harry made out the flare of the hood at its neck, and guessed that it was a cobra of some kind. He gulped and listened carefully to the hiss that followed. "_You are ssspeaking my tongue?"_

"Yes," said Harry, and adopted as apologetic an expression as he could. "_I got placed into Gryffindor by mistake, you see. I really need to get through this oath and not have you bite me."_

"The Ssslytherins are foolsss in sssome waysss," said the snake, turning its head this way and that to regard him. "_But if I do not bite you, then I asssk that you go and ssspeak to my cousssin in the Chamber. It isss good to be quiet, not asssk again and again what hasss become of the Parssselmouth when I am trying to sssleep."_

Harry blinked. _The basilisk was asking after me? It _must _be lonely, _he thought. "_Agreed,_" he said, and then reached out and put his left hand in the snake's mouth, curling his fingers around the right fang.

"I will stay part of the Order of the Serpent, betray none of its secrets, and fight for Slytherin honor," he said firmly.

The serpent retracted slowly into the wall, mouth opening at the last moment to let go of his hand. Harry blinked at it, then turned and looked at Pansy, who was smiling. "I told you it was nothing," she said.

"What happens if someone _does_ betray the Order?" Harry asked.

Pansy shrugged. "Nothing that severe. Their left hand falls off at the wrist—"

Harry winced.

"—and they'll wake to find snakes in their bed at night, devouring them," said Pansy. "Less then they deserve, really." Ignoring Harry's wince, or maybe just not seeing it, she turned towards the door again. "We should get back before Professor Snape finds out you're gone."

"Does he know about the Order?" Harry asked.

Pansy laughed. "Of course not. He hasn't even decided what side's he on yet. He didn't tell us about the Star of Morning, did he?"

"But you're spying on Draco, and told him about that."

Pansy gave him a slightly pitying glance. "Yes, because he wants to get rid of the tarnish on our House honor as much as we do. That doesn't mean that we need to tell him everything."

Harry shrugged and started to say something, then remembered how little he, Ron, and Hermione had told McGonagall in his own world. He supposed he really couldn't talk.

------------------------

They were probably about halfway back to Snape's office when the next problem came along, announcing itself with a swirl of incense.

"Miss Parkinson, Mr. Potter! I regret to interrupt your progress, but I must speak with Mr. Potter at once."

Harry turned, and groaned when he saw Professor Trelawney. The woman looked determined, and when she glanced at him, her eyes automatically flickered to his fringe and the scar that lay beneath it. Harry froze. _But I thought Snape obliviated her, _he thought in confusion.

"Of course, Professor Trelawney," said Pansy cordially, with not a trace of the intense contempt that was in her eyes when she looked at Harry. Then her eyes changed, sending a message that might as well have been telepathic. _Not a word about the Order, or your left hand will fall off._

Harry nodded, and Pansy walked away as though she had nothing better to do in the world. She probably didn't, Harry thought glumly. He couldn't betray her and the others, and she would think that what happened when Snape found him gone was his own problem.

"Come along, my boy," said Trelawney, in a voice that was different from any voice Harry had ever heard her use in his world, and grabbed his hand, the left one. Harry winced for a moment, then let her pull him along. It wasn't as though she was really going to question him about anything, he reassured himself. Snape obliviated her. She was probably reminded of something about the storm, whatever that had been, and just wanted to issue the same kind of misty warning that his own Trelawney had given him.

Unless she's really my own Trelawney…did they really come from my own world?

Trying to think about it was giving Harry a headache, so he settled for looking innocent when Professor Trelawney stopped near one of the staircases to the second floor and stared at him.

"Is something wrong, Professor?" he asked, when the stare just went on.

Trelawney reached out before Harry could stop her and flipped up his fringe, showing the lightning scar. Harry jerked back, preparing to bolt. He could probably lose her in the dungeons, and it wasn't as though she could prove anything by finding the other Harry. This was probably just troubled memories creeping back through Snape's charm.

"I know everything, my boy," said Trelawney, voice weary. "And why not? I was part of most of it."

"I don't understand," said Harry sincerely, though his heart had started pounding. _If I can get information out of someone besides Snape…_

"Professor Snape's spell didn't work," said Trelawney softly. "It's very, very hard to confuse a true seer's mind like that. I have seen the past as well as the future, and all I needed to do was take one glance into my crystal ball the moment I returned to my tower. I knew what he had done." She took a deep breath. "You deserve to know the truth, my child."

"Why?" Harry asked, heart pounding harder than ever.

Trelawney smiled painfully. "With my original prophecy, I saw much of what you would suffer. It was part of the reason that I dreaded the rising of Voldemort so much, because I knew that an innocent child would bear the main burden of defeating him." She hesitated for a long moment. "You have done enough. You deserve to know that you could stay here, and live a normal life, and be spared what I saw."


	12. Trelawney and Truth

A/N: Thank you for all the reviews! I understand the concerns about Harry's characterization. I wrote him the way I did because I picture him as even more emotionally unstable after Sirius's death. He'd be overwhelmed about being transported into this world, I think. Add in having to rely on Snape to get him back home, Pansy not to tell anyone about him being from another world, and everyone else not to find out the secret, and he knows he's walking a tightrope.

However, that's about to change. This chapter should answer a lot of questions, for everyone.

****

The Best of All Possible Worlds

Chapter Twelve: Trelawney and Truth

"Tea?"

"No, thank you," said Harry, as politely as he could. They were in the tower, Trelawney having dragged Harry there the moment he agreed to listen to her, and it was the only place he had found so far where he ceased to notice his own stink. The smell of incense and drifting perfume and something soft and bubbling was everywhere. Harry feared what the tea would taste like.

"I will have some," Trelawney muttered, and disappeared behind a shimmering, veil-like curtain to emerge a moment later with a steaming cup. She looked less misty than she had, eyes clear. Harry was glad of that. He thought it was about time he started getting some answers, and he didn't want Trelawney drifting off into a vision in the middle of the conversation.

"I want to know what you meant," he said at once. "You said that you had a vision of me."

"Yes," said Trelawney, and sipped her tea. Harry felt a small surge of self-congratulations when she put it down almost at once, but it faded when she said, "It always tastes awful, but it keeps away the Sight for a time." She fixed him with a piercing gaze. "More than sixteen years ago, now. And the time has passed the same in our world as in your own, I see." She smiled sadly. "That I should be facing the person I saw in my vision… it has never happened to me before. I experience visions most often of people I already know."

Harry kept from growling with an effort. "But I don't understand how you can have had a vision of me if you're from this world," he said. "Or how you got here if you were born in mine."

Trelawney nodded. "It really will be easier from the beginning. I'll start there."

That would be the most sensible thing to do, Harry thought sarcastically, and then sighed. _This is Trelawney. Sense probably takes her a lot of effort._

But the woman who started speaking to him now looked at least as different from the Divination teacher he knew as the other Snape had from Harry's Snape while he was smiling. "Severus and I were both born in your world. I had visions from my childhood on, but I kept many of them concealed, first out of fear and then—well, out of fear. There were so many horrible things I couldn't prevent. My parents never understood that half the nightmares I cried over were real." Her voice dripped with self-pity.

"But the prophecy of me?" Harry asked indignantly.

His tone seemed to snap Trelawney out of it. "Of course. I eventually got training as a seer, and that was when I learned of other worlds that were versions of our own. At the time, I didn't think much of it. It took a complicated potion to cross between them, for one thing, and I had nowhere near the level of potions skill needed to brew it.

"Eventually I applied for the position of Divination professor at Hogwarts." Bitterness slipped into her voice for a moment. "The Sight was enough to keep me from holding a normal job anywhere else.

"On the night that Dumbledore interviewed me, I spoke a prophecy of you." Trelawney looked him in the eye. "But I had a vision as well. I saw your scar."

"That was how you knew me," said Harry, though he didn't feel satisfied. _It doesn't explain why she's so afraid of me._

"Yes. And I saw many other things. It was the longest and most complicated glimpse of the future the Sight ever gave me." She shut her eyes. "I saw Voldemort rise, and how many people had to die to stop him. I saw the destruction spread across wizarding Britain and spill into the Muggle world. I didn't see an end to it before I snapped out of the vision, and found I had spoken a prophecy that only hinted at what was to come.

"I was terrified. Incoherent with horror. I fled Dumbledore, even though I knew I had gotten the Divination job, and sought out Severus."

"I thought he was a Death Eater then," Harry interrupted.

Trelawney shivered. "I have not heard that name in so long," she said. "Yes. He was. But I had encountered him during my training, when he and I had crossed paths in our research. I knew his heart lay more with Potions than with the Death Eaters' version of pureblood superiority. And even then, he had begun to look for an escape. Yet what escape was there, when he had taken the Dark Mark on his arm of his own free will?"

Harry interrupted again. His head had started to ache, and he was inclined to think it was from confusion, even though it could be from the incense. "He could have just gone to Dumbledore."

"Is that what the one in your world did?" Trelawney asked, astonishment overspreading her features.

"Yes—wait a minute, I thought this Snape I met here was the one in my own world." Harry rubbed his scar. _It's not as bad as the pain Voldemort causes, but it's close_, he thought resentfully.

"Of course, he wouldn't have resented Dumbledore as Severus did," Trelawney murmured, and then raised her hand when Harry opened his mouth to interrupt. "Just a moment. Hearing news from a world I have not seen in sixteen years takes a moment to absorb." She closed her eyes again and sighed, then opened them. "Yes, you do deserve to know what happened."

Harry nodded firmly. He could feel his fear and hesitance melting. Trelawney knew he was from another world already, so he didn't have to worry about revealing the secret to her. And he didn't think she would tell anyone. That made things incredibly different from the way that Pansy and Snape acted around him, and the way he had to act around them.

"Snape agreed to brew the potion that could take me to another world, one where Voldemort didn't exist and we could live happy, normal lives. His price was that he be allowed to come along." Trelawney shrugged slightly. "I didn't know what would happen then, so of course I said yes."

"What happened?" Harry asked insistently, wishing that she would tell the story faster.

For the first time, Trelawney looked at him sharply. "I'll get to that," she said. "The potion works by literally tearing open the gate between the worlds. It takes a lot of magical power to do that, and it's released as—"

"A storm," said Harry, his mind flashing back to the odd and sudden rising of the storm outside Hogwarts. He wondered if his world's Snape, or this world's Snape, or whoever the man he had known for five years really was, had been brewing the potion again.

"Very good," said Trelawney. "Yes. It would have caused just one storm in the hands of a completely skilled potions master, perhaps, but Severus admitted that he was in haste and didn't prepare the potion as carefully as he could have. Since then, there have been a few other storms." She gave Harry an unhappy smile. "But this is the first time someone else came through. I don't know why I didn't foresee this."

She contemplated her hands in silence for a time, while Harry went through the hexes he knew and wondered if there was one that would make her talk faster. Trelawney looked up at last. "When the time came, we walked outside and let the lightning strike us. We woke up here.

"We were overjoyed—until we realized that we had counterparts in this world. They had the lives we wanted, lives of peace, with no Dark Lord tainting them." Trelawney clenched her hands, and a faint tremble entered her voice. "I cannot forgive myself for what we did then, but the guilt becomes easier to live with when there are years between storms.

"The potion allows for two passages back and forth, one for each distinct persona."

"Persona?" Harry was concentrating fiercely now. He didn't want to miss a single nuance of this.

"The people who live in each world. There is the persona of Sybil Trelawney, for example, and the persona of Severus Snape. The persona of Harry Potter." She gave him a weak smile. "So we could have gone back to our own world, but that would have been it. We would not have been able to come to this world ever again "

She bowed her head. "We didn't want to go back. We—we came to Hogwarts, where this world's Sybil Trelawney, a poor seer, had just been offered the position of Divination professor out of pity, and this world's Severus Snape had just become the youngest Potions professor in history.

"We kidnapped them, drugged them with some concoction that Severus made, and waited until the next storm, a few days later. Then we pushed them through into the world we left." Trelawney's voice was now just barely above a whisper. "And we took their places."

Harry was clenching his hands so hard that he could feel his fingernails cutting into his palms. "That was a cowardly thing to do," he said, in a voice that he didn't even recognize as his own. Then his anger faded for just a moment as he recalled things that made that story not make sense. "But I know that the Snape in my world was a Death Eater. Why would he become one, if he didn't believe in that kind of thing here?"

"There are so many limits to each persona," Trelawney said, so softly that Harry could hardly hear her. She was sitting with her head bowed above her lap now, which didn't help. "The order of nature tries to reassert itself as soon as possible. That's why only two passages for each persona, for example. The gates are sealed against us. We can't go back, and the Snape and Trelawney we pushed through into your world—our world—can't return either." She brought her head up with a sharp gasp. "Another thing nature does is reorder the physical appearances of the personas if they exchange worlds as we did, particularly magical markings. The moment the lightning bolt struck the Snape we pushed through, the Dark Mark vanished from Severus's arm. We theorized that it probably appeared on the other one's arm, but we had no way of checking, of course."

Harry felt as if he had been punched in the stomach. He tried to imagine a Snape who had grown up without Voldemort opening his eyes and seeing a snake and skull branded on his arm. He tried to imagine the pain of the first calling, and what he would have had to do if he wanted to survive.

For the first time since meeting the man, Harry thought he might have a reason for the chip he carried on his shoulder.

He looked up to find Trelawney watching him as though waiting for something. "What?" he asked.

"We cannot pass back through the gate," said Trelawney carefully. "But you have come through only once, which means one more passage for your persona. The next storm will show up in a few days. It always does. If you push the Harry Potter who lives here through, then he would remain trapped in the other world. You could stay here. Your scar would vanish, I am sure, and appear on his forehead. You would come to look like him." She took a deep breath. "You could stay here, and live with his friends and family, and have no one notice anything different."

Harry stared at her, a rush of emotions traveling through him. Fear, anger, horror…

And longing, a bit of it. Maybe it was because he had indulged his emotions about Sirius so much over the summer, but Harry couldn't deny that the thought of having parents, and a godfather, and no Voldemort to fight, tempted him. He wouldn't even have to give up his friends.

"Why do you want me to do that?" he asked. "I thought you regretted pushing them through the gate." His voice was sharp, and Trelawney flinched and looked away from him.

"I do," she said. "But that was an action of mindless terror. You would not believe how strongly fear rode me, or I would never have suggested what I did to Severus. I think that you should do this because you have suffered. I saw it. I told you." She looked back at him, and tears stood in her eyes. "And if you go back, worse is to come. Oh my child… so many deaths. So many." She was whispering again by the end of it. "Price after price after price, and years of war. I did not even see how my prophecy came true, if you succeeded in stopping the Dark Lord, or survived."

Harry controlled the temptation to ask who else would die. He didn't want to know. He _didn't._ The grief over Sirius was bad enough.

He tried to make his voice calm and reasonable, though it was hard after that. "But if I push—_him_ through, then _he'll_ face it."

Trelawney nodded, her face unreadable now. "But he has had sixteen years of a normal life, and you have had none."

And Harry felt as though the punch had been in his brain this time, instead of his stomach.

Why _shouldn't_ the other Harry be a prankster and a prat and not know what to do when a copy of himself showed up? He hadn't had to face Voldemort. He'd never been kept in a cupboard. He had parents. He'd known Sirius all his life. No one had ever accused him of being the Heir of Slytherin. The Sorting Hat had probably put _him_ straight into Gryffindor, without a qualm, without a second thought.

If Harry shoved him through the gate, he would die facing Voldemort. Harry was certain of it. And if the prophecy was right, then the wizarding world and all the people Harry knew might die with him.

Harry swallowed stickily. There was a chance it wouldn't work out that way, of course. Maybe the scar would give the other Harry the power to be Voldemort's equal, and he could save everyone then. Harry could live in blissful ignorance, since the dreams would go with the scar, and he wouldn't know what was happening at home.

But he wasn't going to take the chance.

He opened his eyes, and saw Trelawney holding her wand in her lap, casually. And, gazing at her, Harry was quite sure what she would do if he told her what he had just realized. Maybe that was the Slytherin part of him talking. Harry didn't know, and he didn't care. He was just grateful for it.

"I'll consider it," he said, and tried to look shocked. There was probably no trouble with that, he thought wryly. "It's a lot to think about, after all. I never even suspected that something like this was the truth."

Trelawney relaxed, and took her hand off her wand casually, stretching. Harry hoped he did hide the contempt, but looked down in case he didn't. "You have a few days to think about it," she said. "The next storm will show up within the next two weeks, but it's never been earlier than a week."

Harry's stomach tightened with anxiety. _Damn it. Before I go home I somehow have to destroy the Star of Morning._

Not to mention all the other things he had to do.

He smiled, hoping Trelawney would understand why it might look strained. "Thanks, Professor. I'll remember that." He stood up. "And thanks for telling me. Snape wouldn't."

Trelawney gave a small laugh. "I deal with it by feeling guilt. Severus deals with it by refusing to admit it happened." She hesitated. "I am glad that your Snape went to Dumbledore," she said quietly. "It wasn't an option for Severus. He hated the Headmaster too much because he didn't expel Sirius Black for trying to kill him when they were students."

"That didn't happen here?" Harry asked.

"No. I had the feeling that something else did, because your father—that is to say, the James Potter of this world, hated Severus enough on sight. But not something that severe, given that the Snape born here had taken the Potions job." Trelawney hesitated, then smiled encouragingly. "You might think it would be difficult, getting used to a whole new set of relationships with people. But it was harder for Severus than me. He had to work with the Headmaster, and pretend that he didn't hate Potter and Black as much as he did. You're young. You should fit in fairly well. And it really is amazing, how consistent most of the friendships and loves and hatreds are from world to world."

Harry smiled again, wanting to get away from her. Hexing her wouldn't do any good, he told himself firmly. It couldn't give his world's Snape and Trelawney the ability to go back home.

"I thought people would notice a difference," he said casually. "You're a good seer, and the Trelawney you sent through the gate is anything but. She did make one accurate prophecy, and a lot of people think she made the one about me defeating the Dark Lord, but that's still only two."

Trelawney spread her hands. "Dumbledore was a kind man, no matter what the world. I had less worries for my counterpart than for Severus's. Albus would have taken her in, and the one here simply thought I had acquired extra training." She smiled again, more strongly this time. Harry guessed he must be fooling her. "Which was true, after all."

Harry nodded, and said, "Well, I should get going now, before Professor Snape thinks something is wrong." He began edging towards the trapdoor.

Trelawney, to his happiness, let him go. She appeared to be staring off into space and thinking of the past again, her voice distant when she said, "Come back in a few days, before the storm, and tell me your decision. I can help you make arrangements to take the Harry Potter here through the gate."

Harry swallowed the words he wanted to speak, and climbed down the ladder. He couldn't quite bring himself to wave a cheery farewell.

He leaned against the wall of the corridor for a moment when he was down, and closed his eyes. His heart was pounding hard, but almost none of the fear he had felt remained. Even his anger had stopped burning so hotly. It was cold instead, and behind it was determination.

I am _going to make it right. No one else will, and someone has to. _He lifted his head a little and managed a small smile. _And it is what I was born for, after all._

"I—I was just going to ask Professor Trelawney about you."

Harry turned around quickly. Behind him stood the other Harry, staring at him with wide eyes, the tracks of tears on his face.


End file.
